The Battle of Evermore
by Charloes Angels
Summary: A collaborative story written by DriverPicksTheMusic, IceonFire7, LemonSupreme & LostinMysticFalls. Our attempt at Season 3 includes all the familiar faces you've grown to love or hate. As they travel from Willoughby to Bradbury, our heroes will fight for their very existence in the Battle of Evermore. (with slow burn Charloe)
1. MOON Spells Moon

I see a bad moon arisin'  
>I see trouble on the way<br>I see earthquakes and lightnin'  
>I see bad times today<br>-Creedance Clearwater Revival

Pale moon doth rain, Red moon doth blow, and White moon doth neither rain nor snow.  
>–Ancient Proverb<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: M-O-O-N Spells Moon <strong>(by LemonSupreme)

Bass Monroe is standing on the rickety front porch of the house he's claimed as his own. He sips whiskey from a chipped coffee cup. Painted on the side of the cup are a yellow smiley face and the words 'Don't Worry Be Happy'. A brisk evening wind pulls at his clothes and ruffles his hair.

Bass stares into the night sky and takes another drink. He is clearly paying no heed to the cheerful message painted on the mug. His expression is grim. He hears footsteps coming around the corner of the house, but doesn't look his visitor's way. He doesn't need to. Bass knows exactly who it is: his oldest friend and next door neighbor.

"There's blood on the moon Miles." Bass' voice is low. He motions to the sky with his chin.

"Yep." Miles joins his old friend on the porch. They stand there, side by side, both looking up at the eerie red glow of the moon, lost in thought.

"Something bad's coming. I can feel it." Bass takes another drink from his smiley face mug.

"Yep." Miles pulls a flask from a jacket pocket, unscrews the lid and takes a swig. "Remember the last time we saw a red moon?"

"Baltimore." Bass' face is hard in the moonlight. His spine bristles and his gut tightens. He believes in his heart that the red moon is an omen.

"Baltimore." Miles agrees, rubbing at tired eyes.

These two men have seen more than their fair share of violence, destruction and death. They have killed and tortured and destroyed. These days they try to put their pasts behind them. They try to focus on the here and now, but there are some memories that are simply too awful, too disturbing to forget. Baltimore had almost done them in. They hardly ever talk of it, for even the mention of that city chills them to the bone.

"Baltimore." Miles says it again as if this one word tells a story, and of course for these two it does exactly that.

Someone who doesn't know Miles as well as Bass does wouldn't catch the tremor in Miles' voice. Bass hears it and notes that Miles sounds the same way Bass feels. The sight of that damn red moon sends a swirling torrent of dread through his body. The dread tells him all he needs to know.

"Something bad's coming, Miles."

"Yep."

XXXXXXXXXX

Eddie Slater is sixteen. He's not bright. The old-timers say he's 'a bit touched in the head'. The younger folks aren't mean to him, but neither are they terribly friendly. Most people just leave him alone.

Generally he's tended to by his big sister Becca, not that she really does much 'tending'. She works nights as a whore on the East side of Willoughby. She spends her days sleeping or yelling at her brother. Becca hates working on her back, but she hates her role as caregiver to her half-wit brother even more.

Becca is not a good person. Her heart is cold and dark. Eddie does his best to stay out of her way. This is a system that has served them both well for years.

On this blustery evening, Eddie watches his sister talk to their Mother. The conversation is animated and filled with tension… that is, the part of it Eddie can hear. Their Mom has been dead for almost five years now, but Becca is talking and yelling at her just like she never died at all.

Eddie Slater may be touched in the head, but he knows full out crazy when he sees it. Even though it frightens him something fierce, he stays to witness the one-sided conversation his sister is having with their dead Mother.

When it's over, Becca walks off into the night, her body strangely stiff as if she is a puppet on a string. She doesn't say goodbye, but somehow Eddie knows she's not coming back.

Eddie's memory never has been all that great, but one part of the weird conversation seemed important. He repeats it in a whisper, over and over so that he won't forget… "Bradbury Idaho. Bradbury Idaho. Bradbury Idaho..."

Eddie's biting his lip and trying hard to hold back hot tears. He doesn't remember being this upset – not since his Mom died. Her death had been ugly. Everyone knew it was probably Becca that had done it, but nobody could prove anything. Eddie knew more than he'd ever been willing to say, but Becca was all he had left, even if she was an awful person. Eddie just didn't want to be alone and knew if they sent Becca to jail, that's what would happen.

Now it looks like he's going to be alone anyway.

Eddie is worried. What should he do next? Then he thinks of the one person who might be able to help him…. The one person in all of Willoughby who has always been nice to him no matter what: his old teacher Aaron Pittman.

Eddie packs a bag with a change of clothes, and straps it to his back before walking with a quick shuffle down the street, away from the house he's lived in his whole life. He has to find Aaron. Eddie is calmer now that he has a plan, but he continues to talk quietly to himself. The wind picks up and it whips around him as he walks, surrounding him with a swirl of leaves and dust. If someone were to listen very carefully, they would hear the boy muttering over the sound of the howling wind…

"Bradbury Idaho. Bradbury Idaho. Bradbury Idaho..."

XXXXXXXXXX

Seven days, twelve hours, forty-five minutes… give or take.

That's how long Dr. Gene Porter figures he's been stuck in his bed with a perfectly nasty respiratory infection. Back in the days when antibiotics flowed like water from the tap, this would have been a two day setback at most.

As it is, Gene knows he's actually lucky to still be alive. It had all started off innocently enough. He'd treated Greta Miller for a sore throat. Greta claimed to be thirty-nine, but if she was less than sixty, Gene would eat his hat. Greta had a bit of a crush on her favorite doctor and had surprised him with a big wet kiss right on the lips as the exam was winding down. Gene had known it was just a matter of time then. He'd been right.

Within eight hours, his own throat felt raw and he was coughing so hard he thought his lungs would collapse. By the end of the day he was propped up in bed struggling for every breath. Rachel had stopped by to say hello, discovered just how sick he was and promptly moved him to the house she shares with Miles and Charlie. She'd convinced Miles to move all of Gene's medical supplies to their house as well. Rachel has taken to being his nurse in the same way she does everything else: with stubborn determination.

She'd found an herbal remedies book in Gene's things and has been bringing him an array of awful concoctions ever since. Some help. Some don't.

Gene sighs heavily. Rachel may be his beloved daughter and his only child; but if she brings him cabbage juice one more time he is going to have to kill her. Gene wrinkles his nose and pours the latest glass of the offensive green liquid into the potted plant by his bed.

"I saw that." Charlie chuckles from the door.

"Charlie, it's good to see you." His voice is still raspy, his breathing labored, but Gene smiles at his granddaughter fondly. "You look a little anxious. Everything okay?"

Charlie shrugs, putting on a brave face, "I have to meet with someone about a job tonight. I'm kind of nervous about it."

Gene smiles and pats her hand. "You are amazing Charlie. I'm sure you have nothing to be nervous about."

"We'll see." Then her smile widens as she remembers her reason for dropping by, "I brought you something Grandpa, and I'm pretty sure you'll like it…" She reaches into her jacket, but steals a quick glance at the open door before handing him his surprise.

"Oh Charlie," Gene grins as he pulls a small oatmeal cookie from its parchment paper wrapping, "This is wonderful." He raises the cookie to his lips, but stops abruptly when his daughter appears.

"Dad." Rachel's voice is full of warning.

"Nurse Ratched." Gene growls, squinting his eyes.

"Hi Mom." Charlie smiles. "Maybe cut him some slack? He's been lying around for days. He needs a treat, and it's just a cookie." She pouts at her Mother.

Rachel's lips tighten into a firm line. "He can have treats when his breathing is normal and he's no longer in danger of catching pneumonia. Besides, I brought him more juice." She holds out a hand, "Give me the cookie Dad."

Gene looks at the cookie, and then at his daughter. He starts to hand it to her, but rethinks his decision and pops the whole thing in his mouth. He grins around a mouthful of cookie, and leans back, eyes closed, savoring the flavor.

"Dad!" Rachel exclaims. "What about the juice?"

When the last of the cookie is gone, he answers with a grin, "Rachel, I love you. I really do, but I will chew off my own arm before I drink another glass of your juice."

"Charlie, next time you want to put your Grandpa's life in danger over a cookie, please come talk to me first."

Gene smiles, "Death by cookie? I'd say there are worse ways to go." He and Charlie both are laughing when Rachel turns on her heel and leaves the room, cabbage juice in hand.

Rachel closes the door behind her and smiles with relief. For the first time in a week she thinks her Dad is doing better. He isn't out of the woods yet, but his personality and sense of humor have certainly returned. Rachel looks down at the glass of green juice and shrugs, taking a sip.

She shudders a little. No wonder her Dad had been excited about eating a cookie.

XXXXXXXXXX

Connor wakes with a jolt. Tom Neville sits just on the other side of the dying fire, and he's watching Connor. Again. Neville has never been Connor's favorite guy. He'd only come along with Tom on this journey to Idaho because Connor honestly feels he doesn't have any better options. Connor is still way too mad at his Dad to go back to Willoughby.

Neville is a weird dude and his weirdness seems to become more pronounced every day. They've been on the road for weeks now but things are only getting worse, which is bad considering how freaky their partnership had started. Neville stares into space or talks to people who aren't there. He doesn't eat. He doesn't sleep. Neville's behavior is disturbing, but Connor has nowhere else to go and nobody else to go with – so for now disturbing is as good as it's going to get.

"Why are you always watching me when I sleep? It's creepy." Connor asks with a scowl.

"We think you are quite interesting Connor Monroe."

"The name is Bennett. I've told you that like fifty times."

"You say Bennett with your voice, but in your head you consider yourself a Monroe."

Connor looks skeptical, "So what – you're psychic now? What would you know about anything in my head?"

"Oh, we know plenty." Neville sighs and then begins to list off things he knows, "We know you lost your virginity to a prostitute Nunez gave you for your fifteenth birthday. We know that you are angry at Charlotte Matheson because she won't sleep with you again. We know that you want your Dad to love you as much as he loves Miles. We know that you play sweet and innocent, but that you were killing even before you screwed that first whore. We know that you are capable of being just as bad as your Father ever was, but that there is also a goodness in you that keeps the darkness mostly at bay. We know that in your head, you call yourself Connor Monroe and even though you are mad at him now, you are proud to be your Father's son." Neville's voice is cool and even.

Connor stares at the older man for a moment, and then shakes his head, "Whatever, I must have talked in my sleep or something. No way are you reading my mind."

Neville doesn't respond to Connor, but he does look off to the side and speaks into the air, "Not the sharpest knife in the drawer is he?" Connor almost says something, but Neville continues, "No not very bright, but then we don't need him to be smart do we? Just willing."

Neville listens to the silence for a minute and then chuckles. "Yes, that too."

"What are you talking about? Willing to do what?" Connor frowns, confused.

Neville smiles coldly, "Don't you worry your pretty little head about anything Connor Monroe. We've got it all under control."

Connor wonders (not for the first time) who this 'we' is that Neville is always referring to. He feels a shiver of apprehension.

Something bad is coming. He can feel it.

As if Neville really can read Connor's mind, he turns and holds his gaze intently. "Yes Connor, something is coming… something big, but it doesn't have to be bad. It all depends on your perspective." Neville's smile grows into a cunning grin. For a moment Connor is reminded of a horror movie he and a childhood friend had stolen from Wal Mart the summer before the blackout. It had been about an evil clown. Connor remembers having nightmares for weeks after watching it. That crazy smile of Neville's reminds Connor of the creepy clown from that movie. He shudders as dread settles in his gut.

As suddenly as the weird smile had appeared, it is gone. Once again Neville is staring into space, his expression placid. The wind picks up around them, howling in the distance.

Yep. Something bad is coming and Connor doesn't think perspective has anything to do with it.

XXXXXXXXXX

Far away in a crumbling city, a woman lounges behind a big oak desk. Her visitor shifts nervously from one foot to the other. This is a common response to being in her presence. She likes that they fear her.

The woman slides a stack of papers across the desk. The man picks them up and shuffles through the stack quickly.

He pauses at one point and looks up, "Matheson, Monroe, more Mathesons… this isn't the first time some of these names have been on bounties. Thought you said this was urgent?"

The woman frowns, "My superiors…" she points to the large door behind her desk, "are very interested in making sure that there is never another need for a bounty on any of these individuals. This needs to be the final capture. Can you do it or not?"

"Of course. These days, I'm the best there is. What's their last known location?"

"Willoughby Texas for all of them except Bennett. His current location is unknown."

The man nods, "How do you want them?"

She shrugs, "Alive is preferred, but don't put yourself in danger to keep any of them breathing. These are a wily bunch. Watch yourself."

He smirks, "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"Oh I'm not worried about you. Just don't fail, or it is you who will need to worry." Her gaze is icy as she hands him a small leather bag of diamonds.

He swallows thickly; the smirk is gone. She sees the beads of sweat popping up on his brow as he takes his payment. Good. Nervous is always good. "Yes, Ma'am."

She motions for him to leave, her expression now bored. As he opens the door she stops him, "Wait."

"Yes?" he turns, clearly wanting to be on his way. He is clutching the stack of bounties a little tighter than is actually necessary.

"Secrecy is of the utmost importance with this assignment. The origin of these bounties must remain anonymous. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

She watches him for a moment, evaluating him silently. She finally nods, "You may go now."

He turns and is gone before she can change her mind.

The woman walks to the office's window and looks out. The blood moon casts an ominous glow on the night below. A cold smile spreads across her lips.

Ominous is good. She likes ominous.

XXXXXXXXXX

Someone had discovered a battered box of dot matrix printer paper and given it to Aaron a while back. Even though the paper was old long before the blackout, it was still remarkably usable even if it did smell a bit moldy. The distinctive green stripes on each sheet made Aaron giddy when he first opened the box.

Now he and Priscilla are sitting at their kitchen table, surrounded by flickering candles and sheets of the green and white paper. Each sheet is lined with handwritten code or notes. They've been working almost non-stop since Priscilla had torn free from the Nano. Their goal is to defeat it, but they are struggling and swiftly losing momentum. They never have figured out all that grinning man business. Rachel has been distracted by her Dad's illness, and there have been no new sightings of the Nano that they know of. This worries Aaron the most.

No way has the Nano disappeared, but what is it planning?

Where is it now?

Who is it now?

Aaron runs a hand across his mouth in frustration. He is so tired of thinking and second guessing and wondering what he's missing. His hair is sticking out oddly and his glasses are crooked. There are heavy dark bags under his eyes. Aaron is exhausted and frustrated and on the verge of panic. He has a feeling that time is of the essence. He has a feeling time is, in fact, running out.

Priscilla is not much better. Physically she has recovered completely from her time as host to the Nano. Emotional well-being is something else entirely. She is skittish and unsure of herself. She has nightmares and panic attacks. She misses her daughters more than ever and Aaron is worried that she's sinking into a deep depression.

"Maybe we should call it a night?" Priscilla suggests, her voice subdued.

Aaron stretches tired muscles and nods. It's been a long day with nothing to show for any of their effort. "Yeah, we could use some rest. Maybe we'll have better luck in the morning." He doesn't sound particularly hopeful. They blow out the candles, and he puts a reassuring hand at Priscilla's back. They are almost out of the kitchen when they hear a knock at the door.

Aaron tenses, "Who would be visiting us at night?" he asks in a hushed whisper.

Priscilla just shrugs tiredly.

"Go to bed. I'll see who it is." Aaron gives her a quick kiss on the cheek and turns toward the door. He hesitates before opening it, not even bothering with the peephole. Without a porch light, the silly little thing is useless. Stupid blackout.

Aaron opens the door, and is unable to hide his surprise and relief. As late night visitors go, this one is harmless, though completely unexpected. "Eddie? What are you doing here?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Bass and Miles have moved from Bass' porch next door to the front steps of the Matheson house. They sit there, enveloped in silence under the light of the blood red moon. They both turn to the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Hey Charlie." Miles calls out. "Where ya been?"

"I went for a walk." Charlie sounds tense. Bass and Miles both sit at attention.

"What happened Kid?" Miles asks, worried.

"I had that meeting with the General tonight. It didn't go well at all." She sits down heavily on the bottom step, not turning to look at the men behind her. "I didn't make it in. They don't want me."

Bass is confused. "What meeting? What General? Don't want you for what?"

Miles nods in Charlie's direction, "She's trying to join the Rangers."

Bass laughs out loud. "Why wouldn't they want YOU?" he is truly shocked. "You could train them on tracking, archery and even hand to hand combat, and they'd be lucky to have you." He shakes his head. "Idiots."

Miles chuckles.

"This isn't funny Miles." Charlie says with a huff. Then she glances at Bass, "Thanks."

Miles is still chuckling.

"What is so damn funny?" Bass asks him, still feeling irritated on Charlie's behalf. That girl has more than proved herself over the last year. The Rangers really are idiots if they don't let her join.

Miles calms down a bit. "Well for starters, the General Charlie met with tonight is General Claire Donegan."

"Oh hell." Bass mutters, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah." Miles says with a grin.

Charlie is looking back and forth between them, "What?" she asks, frustrated. "What are you guys talking about?"

Miles points to Bass, "Ever since Texas declared war on the Patriots, Bass here has been keeping company with a certain General who was there when it all went down." Miles chuckles again, "So he was just calling his own girlfriend an idiot. I'm sorry, but that's funny."

Charlie looks at Bass again and shakes her head, "You're dating General Donegan?" Their eyes lock for a moment. He shrugs and looks away, feeling oddly uncomfortable, though he isn't exactly sure why.

"Girlfriend. Dating. These are strong words. We see each other sometimes. It's not a big deal." Bass says defensively. "I forgot Claire was heading up the Ranger recruiting. She's not an idiot. At least I've never seen it." He looks at Charlie and then to Miles. "No, really…this isn't like her. Why would Claire have a problem with Charlie?"

Rachel comes out on the porch just in time to hear the tail end of the conversation. "Claire who?" she asks.

Charlie looks up at her Mom, "General Claire Donegan. She works with Blanchard and is in charge of recruiting new Rangers. I was hoping to join up, maybe be a scout or a tracker..." She shrugs, "It doesn't matter. She says I don't have what it takes."

Miles isn't laughing anymore. "Ah hell. Here we go."

Rachel's mouth twists with anger and her eyes narrow. "Claire Donegan? Really? Claire Donegan doesn't think YOU have what it takes to be a Texas Ranger?" her mouth twitches in anger. "She wouldn't know good enough if it smacked her in the face."

"Geesh Mom, it's not a big deal. Really. Do you know her or something?"

"Oh yes, I know her."

"Well, it's probably going to be okay. Turns out Monroe is kind of involved with her so maybe he can put in a good word for me?" She glances over at Bass with a questioning look.

He nods, "Sure Charlie. I'll talk to her."

Rachel turns to Bass, "You and Claire?" When he shrugs, she chuckles mirthlessly. "Figures. You two are perfect for each other."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Bass asks indignantly.

Rachel ignores him and turns to Charlie. "This isn't about you at all Charlie. It's about me. I'll go talk to her tomorrow. I assure you this will get straightened out." Then she turns and goes inside, the screen door slamming loudly behind her.

"Wow. Rachel really does think the world revolves around her, doesn't she?" Bass asks, shaking his head.

"This time she might be right." Miles leans back against the railing, "Claire and Rachel grew up together and were in the same class in school. They were best friends until senior year. I don't know all the gory details but they fought over a guy they both liked. It was ugly and the friendship didn't survive." Miles shrugs. "Rachel probably figures that Claire is taking that out on you, Charlie."

"So Claire is Rachel's nemesis? No wonder she thinks we're a good match." Bass can't help but smirk. He sees Miles' pained expression, "Oh come on Miles. You were laughing first."

Miles cracks a smile too. He loves Rachel, but this is pretty funny. "Well now that you and Rachel aren't trying to kill each other anymore, maybe we could all go on a double date?" he jokes. Bass throws his head back and laughs. It's true. Rachel and Bass have reached a new understanding. They'll never be best friends, but they are doing their best to get along.

"I think a double date might be pushing it a little far." Bass says with an uncomfortable chuckle, glancing Charlie's way.

Their eyes hold for a moment. Sometimes she thinks she could get lost in those blue eyes when he looks at her like that. She takes a deep breath and shakes her head, clearing it. Not going there, she reminds herself.

Charlie turns suddenly. Now she's staring attentively into the darkness. "Hear that?" she asks reaching for her knife. Miles and Bass both raise their weapons based solely on Charlie's warning.

A couple second later they all hear it – the sound of approaching footsteps. Bass can't help but think once again how dumb it would be to keep Charlie out of the Rangers. She was born for this shit. All three lower the weapons they have trained on the path when they see Aaron and Priscilla emerging from the shadows.

"Hey guys, is Rachel here?" Aaron's eyes are wide and he looks like he can't decide if he's excited or terrified.

"Yeah?" Miles doesn't like the vibe he's getting off Aaron. Something is up.

Priscilla always looks tired these days, but tonight she seems to have regained a little of her old spark. Whatever is going on has both of them acting like kids on Christmas Eve.

"We need to talk to her, like right now." Aaron says, a little breathless.

It is only now that a third figure emerges from the darkness. Guns are immediately drawn again, until Aaron waves them off. The young man standing behind Aaron is staring at the ground and muttering to himself.

"What is he doing?" Bass asks.

"He's counting. It calms him down a bit." Priscilla answers.

"Why does Rainman need to calm down in the first place?" Miles asks. He still hasn't moved to get Rachel. First he wants to know what the hell is going on here.

"I think I know him." Charlie says thoughtfully. "Eddie?"

The boy looks up at Charlie's question and flashes a nervous smile. "Hi Charlie." Eddie likes her. She has a pretty smile and she has never called him names or been mean to him at all. Charlie is always kind.

"What do you need Rachel for? She's tending to Gene right now." Miles sounds grouchy. He hates not knowing what's going on.

"Well, Eddie's sister talked to their Mother today." Aaron's voice is higher pitched than normal, and he is speaking quickly. Clearly he is excited.

"So?" Bass asks, not bothering to hide just how unimpressed he is.

"So," Charlie says quietly, "Eddie's Mom died several years ago – before we all came to Willoughby. I remember hearing the stories."

Eddie is nodding.

"Wait!" Miles says, exasperated. "I thought you said someone talked to his Mom today?"

"Yes." Aaron says, almost giddy. He waits patiently for Miles to get it.

"Oh hell." Miles says finally, "More of that science fiction crap isn't it?"

Aaron nods. "Yes. We finally think we know where the Nano is."

"Told you something bad was coming." Bass mutters, a cold chill settling down his spine. "Well, here it comes."

Priscilla shakes her head, "No. It's not coming here. It's leaving."

"But then, that's good, right?" Miles asks.

"No, it's not good." Rachel has appeared from inside. Evidently she's heard enough to understand what's going on. "We can't defeat it when it's far away. We wouldn't know where to start."

Aaron nods to Rachel in agreement, "Well, thanks to Eddie, we know where to start now."

"Where?" Bass asks.

Eddie looks up and speaks softly, "Bradbury Idaho. They're all going to Bradbury Idaho."

Rachel nods slowly, her mouth twitches as a decision is made. "Then that's where we're going too, some of us at least."

Bass Monroe looks up at the blood moon, and once again he is sure that something bad is coming. He wishes Connor was here. He hates the thought of his son out there facing any of this alone, or worse yet – with Neville. Maybe the bad thing isn't coming to Willoughby, but he feels in his gut that something bad is in store for this group of friends…this make-shift family.

Something bad is waiting in the Wastelands of Idaho. It's waiting there for them.

Miles is clearly thinking the same thing. His gaze also turns to the eerie night sky and the crimson moon that hovers. Only Bass hears his friend's whispered words before they are torn away by the howling wind.

"Red moons really suck."

* * *

><p>AN: Please leave a comment if you have a moment. You'll see chapter 2 (by IceonFire7 in a week or so).

Credit: Chapter title comes from Stephen King's "The Stand". Story title comes from Led Zeppelin of course. ;)


	2. Over The Hills And Far Away

Histories of ages past  
>Hung in light and shadows cast<br>Down through all eternity  
>The crying of humanity;<br>'Tis then when the Hurdy Gurdy Man  
>Comes singing songs of love<br>– _The_ _Hurdy_ _Gurdy_ _Man_, _Donovan_

Pass me that lovely little gun  
>My dear, my darling one<br>The cleaners are coming, one by one  
>You don't even want to let them start<br>They are knocking now upon your door  
>They measure the room, they know the score<br>They're mopping up the butcher's floor  
>Of your broken little hearts<br>Forgive us now for what we've done  
>It started out as a bit of fun<br>Here, take these before we run away  
>The keys to the gulag<br>– _O_ _Children,_ _Nick_ _Cave_ _& The_ _Bad_ _Seeds_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: Over The Hills And Far Away<strong> (by IceonFire7)

Claire Donegan was having a really bad day. It started first thing in the morning with Bass. Before they'd even gotten out of bed, he'd already questioned her about the Matheson girl, wondering why the hell she wouldn't want a trained fighter like Charlie joining the Rangers. She hadn't wanted to argue with him that early, so she'd just nodded and promised to take another look at her application.

The second she'd gotten to the office, her assistant handed her a note from Blanchard, again inquiring over why Charlie had been denied entrance to the Ranger program. According to the message, Miles Matheson had spoken very highly of his niece's skills and Blanchard figured she would be a wonderful asset. So now that Claire's boss had gotten involved, nothing short of a miracle would keep Charlie off the team.

Her reasons against Charlie were rather juvenile, but the girl just irked her. All that swagger and confidence wrapped up in a perfect package. Not to mention, every man she knew seemed to think the world of the girl. Miles and Bass talked about her like she was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Miles she could understand; Charlie was his niece after all. But why the hell did Bass care?

Yet the biggest problem of all was Charlie's mother.

Claire Donegan and Rachel Porter had been pretty good friends growing up. But it ended when Michael Anderson asked Rachel to the winter formal. Dark-haired, blue-eyed, captain-of-the-football-team Michael had been Claire's secret crush since they were freshmen, and they'd started becoming really good friends when they wound up in the same study hall senior year. She truly believed he was on the verge of asking her out when the questions about Rachel began. Soon after, she realized Michael had only been bonding with her to get closer to her friend.

Claire had always been considered cute, but Rachel was beautiful. She was funny and popular and well-liked, not to mention smart as a whip. Everyone in school just liked the striking blonde. The boy she liked asking Rachel out was the final straw. They'd had a huge blow-out and the friendship had ended in an explosion of harsh words.

So maybe she was being petty when it came to Charlie, but she'd been placed in charge of the Rangers and she wanted to make the final decisions. God, her day just really sucked.

What she didn't need was the woman from her bad memories walking into her office. But five minutes later, Rachel Matheson waltzed through her door.

"Claire, might I have a word?"

Claire's head popped up, her eyes narrowing. "Rachel, of course."

"Thank you." Rachel entered, taking a seat in front of the desk. "Listen, I understand my daughter has put in an application to join the Rangers."

"She has."

"I also understand that you've turned her down." Rachel bit her upper lip before continuing. "I was just wondering why you would turn your vendetta against me onto my daughter."

Smug as always. The woman had a way of pushing Claire's buttons. "This isn't about you, Rachel, believe it or not. I don't feel Charlie has the right qualifications to be a Ranger. She only started training to fight last year with her uncle. Our cadets are trained from a very young age."

"You don't feel Charlie has the right qualifications," Rachel said slowly. "Charlie...who walked from Wisconsin to Philadelphia to find her little brother. Charlie who helped topple the Monroe Republic. Charlie...who has had two generals and ex-marines showing her the ropes for the last two years. She's forgotten more than most of your people will ever learn."

Now Claire was really pissed. "She's brash and reckless. She's been trained by men who rush into danger without a second thought."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you dating one of those men?"

"My relationship with Sebastian is none of your business."

"Well, he certainly seems to think highly of Charlie." The statement hung there in the air. Rachel was deliberately trying to anger her. "Tell me, Claire, are you more upset because Michael didn't choose you...or because he chose me?"

Her eyes flared, and she jumped up from her desk to stare down her blonde nemesis. "You bitch."

Rachel hopped up, facing off with her. They circled around like two cats before leaping on each other and pulling hair, clothing, and anything else they could find. And that was exactly how Charlie found them five minutes later.

"Mom...what the hell?" They were swearing at each other as Charlie grabbed at them, trying her best to pull them apart. She succeeded in moving Rachel out of the way before Claire could dive on her mother. But momentum pushed Claire into Charlie, who instinctively turned around shoving the woman backwards against the wall. The move knocked the wind out of the dark-haired woman who slid down into a crouching position.

"You're a pathetic shrew," Rachel spat.

"Mom!"

"At least I'm not sleeping with my ex-husband's brother."

Both Mathesons turned to her with the same cold eyes. They were formidable enough that a shiver shot up her spine. Well, one thing had come out of this terrible day. She'd gotten the miracle she needed to ban Charlie from the Rangers for life.

"Well, Ms. Matheson, you just sealed your fate." She slowly stood up, her back still pressed against the wall to keep her steady. "You assaulted an officer. You'll never be a Ranger now."

The look Charlie shot her was lethal. "Lady, if you're in charge, I'd join Monroe's militia before I'd join the Texas Rangers."

Both women walked out without a backward glance.

XXXXXXXXXX

Aaron and Priscilla were packing, getting as ready as they could for the trip to Idaho. He hated that they had to make this trek, considering Priscilla's state of mind; she seemed so haggard and tired, and he had questions he needed to ask, but he was afraid of pushing her too far. He sighed heavily; actually, he hated traveling in general anymore. So much had happened since they left the little village of Sylvania Estates.

"Priscilla..." She glanced up at him. "What do you think we're going to find? In Bradbury."

"I don't know." Her eyes took on that distant look.

"You said...millions of mindless people." He swallowed thickly. "Do you think..."

"Maybe."

"And a grinning man. I mean, what are we heading into here?"

"Aaron, I don't know," she said, her voice raised in exasperation. "I only saw a glimpse of it. And I just feel like...something bad is coming. I don't have many more answers than that."

He held up his hands. This is exactly what he didn't want. She was barely holding on, pushing her over the edge could prove disastrous. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to keep us from walking blindly into a trap. Or some other nightmare."

Who was he kidding? He'd been walking in and out of various nightmares since Ben Matheson had died practically at his feet. Why should this be any different? Besides, they'd taken on the Monroe Republic and that had turned out all right. If one called losing Maggie, Danny, and Nora and blowing up two major east coast cities all right. But, hey, Monroe was now on their side.

"The Nano is going after a certain type of person," Priscilla said, her low voice startling Aaron.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"They found, during their little experiments, that there was a certain type that was easiest to control. To use to get what they want." She turned to him and her dark eyes appeared almost flat, dead. "Those who are lost, afraid, evil, cruel..."

Aaron swallowed, a sweat breaking out on his forehead. "So what you're telling me is we're not only facing a potential Nano army, it's an army of murderers, rapists, criminals, and thugs."

"Something like that."

"Well, that's...fabulous..." A horrible thought occurred to him. "Is Monroe going to be taken?"

"Bass?"

"Yeah, Bass." Over the past couple weeks, Sebastian Monroe had become something of a friend. The idea of something splitting their little gang was terrifying. And he no longer wanted Bass on the enemy side.

"They're taking people that are inherently cruel...or those they feel they can convince to be so."

"He ran an evil militia for 10 years."

"Yes, but maybe Bass Monroe isn't as evil as everyone thought." She cocked her head as if deep in thought. "And there are other things that could keep them away. Love, friendship, compassion. They want those who are alone...who have nothing. I don't think he's what the Nano are looking for. Not anymore."

How ironic would it be if Bass reuniting with all of them saved him? His friendship with Miles and Charlie, Rachel's acceptance. Aaron breathed heavily, but his relief was short-lived.

There were others out there...Davis, Truman was missing...and oh God, Neville. He glanced back at his ex-wife. She was packing again, but her hands were gently shaking. He folded another shirt and tossed it into his bag. What the hell were they getting themselves into now?

XXXXXXXXXX

Charlie strolled up the driveway to the house she shared with Gene, Miles, and her mother, stopping when she saw Miles and Bass shooting a basketball at the hoop attached to the house, their shirts carelessly tossed to the ground. She remembered how excited they'd both been when they'd found an old basketball and foot pump.

Hand on her hip, she watched them joking around and stealing the ball from each other. They seemed pretty evenly matched, even though Miles was a few inches taller. But it was Bass her eyes were drawn to. He had an athlete's body, and he used it to his advantage, ducking down and eluding her uncle as he shot the ball through the net.

God, Charlie...why was she even looking at him? This was Sebastian Monroe; although even she had to admit he'd become Bass in her eyes. And it wasn't like she'd never seen him without a shirt before.

She shook off the entire train of thought when she realized Miles had called her name. "Hey, kiddo, what's up?"

"Nothing." She closed the distance between herself and the men. "Just watching the game."

Miles and Bass exchanged a look. Her uncle shook his head. "Okay, Charlie, what happened?"

"Well, now I'm officially out of the Rangers," she answered.

Miles turned to his best friend. "What the hell, man? You were supposed to talk to Donegan."

"I did! We talked about it this morning, Charlie. She said she was going to glance over your application again."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't that." Her eyes refused to meet theirs as she explained. "It was the fact that I kind of knocked her down."

"What?" Bass asked, an eyebrow arched at her.

Charlie sighed. "When I got there, she and Mom were fighting-"

"Your mother was fighting with her?" Miles asked, confusion in his voice.

"Well, they were arguing." She frowned, biting her lower lip. "It really didn't seem like much of a fight. There was hair-pulling and ripping at clothes."

Bass's eyes met Miles's. They responded in sync. "Chick fight."

At Charlie's baffled look, Miles explained. "Sometimes women used to fight each other that way...before the Blackout. Although, it probably still happens now. It's usually over something stupid. Like a guy."

"Yeah, I got the impression that is what they were fighting about." She shrugged. "As we were leaving Mom said something about a guy named Michael. But she's not even sure if he's alive anymore."

"So what happened?" Miles asked.

"I tried to separate them, and I may have used a little excessive force. General Donegan sort of...fell."

Miles burst into laughter. Bass glared at him. "Come on."

"I'm sure Charlie didn't mean to knock your girlfriend down."

"She's not my girlfriend." It pissed him off that Miles kept saying that. Why did it even bother him? He looked at Charlie. "I'm sorry."

She snorted. "I was the one who did it. And I also, sort of...insulted her."

"What'd you say to her?" Miles asked.

She didn't tell them the horrible thing Donegan had said to her mother. No need to make Miles feel badly; she loved him too much to hurt him with it. "I sort of said that if she was in charge of the Rangers, I'd rather join the militia."

Both men just stared at her for a minute, before Bass spoke. "My militia?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah."

"Wow," Bass said, his eyes locking with Charlie's again. He broke the contact and looked away.

"I guess it just wasn't meant to be. Anyway, now I don't know what the hell I'm going to do."

"Hey, kiddo, you don't need the Rangers. Bass and I could always use a hand."

"Yeah," Bass agreed. "We get into enough scrapes. We could always use someone good in a fight."

"The Rangers didn't want me. Maybe I'm not good."

"Oh, that's bullshit," her uncle said.

"Charlie, you're one of the best out there. Hell, you've been in battles half these Rangers couldn't even imagine," Bass said.

"Thanks to you, Miles." Her eyes scanned from him to Bass. "And you."

Both men grinned at her, their wide smiles drawing one out of her. Miles pulled her into a half hug. "Come on, you want to spar a bit?"

"I don't know." She shrugged but was unable to completely hide her exhilaration.

"Yes, she does," Bass said, winking at her. "Look at that. Look at her face. You totally want to spar with us."

Miles wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards the side yard. "By the way, where did you leave your mother?"

"Oh, she ran into Grandpa in town. They ran to the store to grab some supplies for the trip." She glanced up at him. "Why?"

"Cause your mom doesn't like it when we use real swords." He caught Bass's eye, before turning his sly expression on her. "But if she's not going to be here for a while..."

Bass's grin was downright mischievous. "Well, all right. Let's go."

XXXXXXXXXX

The longer this went on, the more Connor wanted out of it. He'd long ago decided that Tom Neville was nuttier than a fruit basket, but it was just getting to the point that he could barely stand to be around the guy.

And the man was still staring at him all the freaking time. "Have you thought any more of our proposal, Connor Monroe?"

He'd given up even trying to correct Neville on his name. "What proposal? You just keep asking me if I accept without giving me any idea what I'm accepting."

Neville glanced to the side to carry on another creepy conversation with no one. "Nothing has gotten through? No, we continue to try to find the right method for him."

Connor hated the question and answer self-chats the most. "Look, I'm not agreeing to anything. You want something from me, you better start explaining."

"Young Monroe...there is so much you don't yet understand." Neville sat across from Connor. "But you can if you only allow yourself to try."

"Try what? What the hell are you talking about? What the hell do you want?"

"Your complete and utter capitulation." Connor swallowed the bile that rose in his throat at those words. Neville's eyes were black, like a snake's, and empty. "We know that there are so many things that prey on your mind. If you accept, we can make it all better. With us...you will never have to worry if your father loves you enough. You will never have to worry why the girl won't allow you to get close to her again. There will be no more questions, Connor Monroe. No more worries...no suffering...no pain."

There was no way he would ever fall for this...but what Neville was saying...it all sounded...so good. To no longer care about Sebastian Monroe. To not care that he would never be as important to his old man as Miles. To not wonder why Charlie had so quickly broken it off with him; why she looked at him as if he was the biggest regret she had. To no longer miss his mother or his old life. To just be.

"Yeah, I've heard promises like that before." Connor startled out of his stupor when he heard the stranger's voice. Whipping out his gun, he spun around, aiming directly at the man who walked into their camp. "They're usually too good to be true, kid."

"Who the hell are you?" Connor asked, gun trained on the guy.

The man held up his hands in surrender. "I mean you no harm. I'm just hoping that you're strong enough not to fall for this crap."

"I don't really need your advice."

"I'm sure you don't." He nodded towards Neville. "But I know this guy. He's always been a little over the top, but now he's...well, he's not quite himself."

"You know him?" Connor's curiosity was peaked. He studied the stranger, his eyes drawn to a brand on his wrist. He'd seen it before...on Charlie Matheson. It was a circle enclosing an "m".

The Monroe Republic insignia. "Who are you?"

A smirk crossed the man's face. "Baker. But you can call me Jeremy."

XXXXXXXXXX

They'd been at it for over an hour when a rider on horseback approached Bass's yard. The sparring had long been over and they'd basically been goofing off for the last 20 minutes. Bass had tackled Miles, who was laughing on the ground, and had wrapped an arm around Charlie's waist and picked her up as she tried to escape. He was twirling her around, her head thrown back as she giggled, when he recognized the rider as Claire. He stopped spinning, one arm still wrapped around Charlie, and grimaced when he saw Claire's face. If looks could kill, he'd probably already be dead.

He extracted himself from Charlie's arms, excusing himself from his friends and heading towards his house. Claire had already entered, and he wound from room to room searching for her. He found her in his bedroom, her shoes on the floor as she stripped off her jacket. She kept only a few things at his place; he kept nothing at hers. They were messing around; it wasn't anything serious. Still, he probably should keep his mouth shut. But he almost couldn't stop it. Defending Charlie had become second nature to him now.

"I thought you said you'd give Charlie a chance?"

He watched as Claire's back stiffened. When she turned towards him, there was already fire in her eyes. "She attacked me. I'm not going to have somebody like that on my team."

"Yeah, well, you were fighting with her mother." He knew his voice was a lot harder and colder than it should be.

"A woman I understand you don't like very much."

That pissed him off. Yeah, he and Rachel had issues, but they were both trying. "Forget how I feel about Rachel. This is about Charlie."

Claire's eyes narrowed. "And how do you feel about Charlie?"

His mood darkened. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I saw you out there. Goofing off. Having fun."

"So I'm not supposed to have fun with my friends? We were blowing off some steam." It angered him that he had to defend himself. "We were trying to cheer Charlie up since some general turned her down for the Ranger program."

She scoffed. "Yeah, I'm sure that's all it was."

"Look, Miles and Charlie both have to say goodbye to someone they love tomorrow morning. Who knows how long Rachel is going to be gone." He tried to calm down, but his temperature just kept rising. "Miles can't go with her on this dangerous mission because he has to stay here and help your government set up a treaty with some war clans straight out of Mad Max."

"That treaty is important."

"I didn't say it wasn't," he said. "And Miles can deal. But Charlie really wanted that spot on your squad. So I was trying to be a good friend and make her feel better."

"Yeah," Claire drawled, plopping on the bed and glaring up at him. "That's what you were doing."

Damn it, what was her problem? "What the hell is wrong here, Claire?"

"I see the way you look at her."

Look at... "At Charlie?"

"I see the way you laugh when she's around. You never do that with me." Claire was jealous...of Charlie?

He sighed, annoyed they were even having this conversation. "She's my friend."

"Yeah." She crossed her arms in a huff.

"The hell...are you kidding me? She's Miles's niece."

"So what?"

"She's half my age."

"Like I'm sure that would stop you. These all sound like excuses, Bass."

"We're friends. She and I have been through a lot together." Why the hell did he have to explain his relationship with Charlie?

"I just bet you have." She sighed, standing up and slipping her shoes back onto her feet. "Forget it. You know what, Bass? I'm just going to go home tonight."

If she expected him to beg her to stay, she was sadly mistaken. He didn't beg. "Yeah, all right. I'm not really in the mood for a sleepover."

She grabbed her jacket and swept out of the room. His eyes followed her out, but he didn't move an inch. What the hell was she talking about anyway? He didn't feel that way about Charlie. It was ridiculous.

Bass shook his head and walked out of the room. At least being by himself, he'd get a good night's sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bright and early the next morning, Aaron and Priscilla loaded their gear into the back of a wagon while Rachel strapped her pack onto her horse, stroking its mane as she did. She felt Miles as soon as he stepped behind her. Without a word, she turned and wrapped her arms around him, burrowing into his warmth. He stroked her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"So do I have to give you the same advice I always give Charlie?" he asked.

"What is that?"

"Keep your stupid to a minimum."

She laughed, pulling back and looking up at his face. "Is that really what you say to her?"

"Yeah, all the time. She loves it." They both chuckled.

"Keep an eye on her."

"Always." He placed his hands on both of her cheeks, pulling her in and kissing her. She responded, her arms coiling around his neck, bringing him tight to her. He drew back, resting his forehead against hers. "I hate that you're going alone, Rach."

She smiled softly. "I'm not alone. I have Aaron and Priscilla."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "You know that's not what I meant."

"I know."

"Bass, Blanchard, and I have to get this treaty ironed out with the Texas war clans. Otherwise, Rachel, I'd be right there by your side, you know that." He gazed at her.

"I do. But what you guys are doing is important too." He looked away and sighed. "Miles, this is what building a government is like. Don't you remember?"

Miles shrugged. "No. Bass and I just blew a lot of shit up."

She shook her head. "Well, this is doing it the right way. Don't make me worry about you guys messing everything up again."

He scoffed, his lips descending on hers before she could reply. The kiss grew slightly heated until he heard a cough coming from behind them. They both turned to see Bass standing there, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his face. Charlie stood right beside him, rolling her eyes. Gene was also there, an uncomfortable look gracing his features.

"Alright, break it up you two," Bass said, blue eyes twinkling.

"Yeah, shut up," Miles said.

Rachel stepped over to her daughter. "I'm sorry about the Rangers, Charlie."

"Nah, it's okay. I don't think Claire and I would get along anyway."

Charlie said the woman's name with such venom that Bass looked away. Rachel only smiled. "Well, she always was a pain in the-"

"Hey," Bass yelped. "Come on."

"Yeah, don't make fun of the girlfriend," Miles said, chuckling.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Could have fooled me," Miles said. "By the way, I thought you had a hot date last night. Didn't expect to see you so early this morning."

"It didn't work out." Bass glanced at Charlie for a second, making eye contact before turning away. "Anyway, I wouldn't miss being here to say goodbye to the crew."

Gene wrapped his arms around his daughter. "Just be careful. I wish I could come with you."

"Dad," Rachel said. "No, you don't."

"I'll hold down the fort...until you come back," he said.

"Look after Eddie."

"Of course," Gene kissed her forehead. "He's sleeping like a baby upstairs. I think he likes our house."

"Good." She chuckled, her eyes on his. "And do me a favor. Get better. Eat well."

"Rachel, I'm a doctor," Gene said.

She squinted at him for a moment. "Oh yes, and that will completely stop you from eating poorly. Charlie, don't let him eat only cookies."

Charlie grinned. "I won't, Mom."

Rachel looked over at her, then reached out and embraced her daughter. Would there ever come a day when she wouldn't have to say goodbye to Charlie? "You take care of yourself, alright."

"You too." Charlie held tightly to her mother. She pulled back and the two women looked at each other. "Keep the stupid to a minimum."

Rachel glanced at Miles, snickering at his cocky look. "Yes, I already got that advice."

"Well, it's good advice," Charlie said. "I'm going to go say goodbye to Aaron and Priscilla. Come on, Grandpa."

After they walked away, Rachel eyed the two men. "So I know I can't ask you to completely stay out of trouble because you two excel at finding it, but can I ask you to make sure that Charlie doesn't get sucked into whatever predicament you find yourselves in."

"Hey, it's us," Miles said.

She glanced between Miles and Bass. "Then can I at least ask you both to look out for her?"

"Charlie doesn't need anyone to look out for her, Rachel. She's more than capable of taking care of herself," Bass said. Both of his friends stared at him. "What?"

Miles frowned, shaking his head. "Look, Rach, we've got Charlie's back, just as she has ours. We'll look out for her."

Rachel smiled, grabbing Miles for another hug and giving Bass a small nod.

Five minutes later, they pulled out onto the road, Aaron guiding the wagon, Priscilla at his side.

Rachel rode out behind them on horseback, stopping one last time to glance back at Charlie, Gene, Miles, and Bass. She raised her hand to wave, which all four returned, then headed out to begin the long journey to Bradbury.

XXXXXXXXXX

In the weeks following her mother's departure, Charlie found herself wandering around a bit, uncertain of her future, unsure of what to do next. She'd decided on the Rangers and hadn't made much in the way of contingency plans. And as much as she'd blown off the whole thing, telling her family and friends that it didn't matter, she was still smarting from being denied entry into the program.

Sitting in the bar, waiting on both Bass and Miles, her mind flashed back to the day she'd walked in on her mom fighting with Claire. Maybe if she'd just handled things differently, she would be a Ranger in training right now.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Bass slid into the chair beside her. "Hey, Miles is going to be a little late. But he said to get started without him."

"Okay. I ordered your usual." She smiled at Bass. "Miles's, too, so I guess you could drink his."

The three of them had been nearly inseparable for the last few weeks. Meeting once or twice a week at the bar for dinner and drinks, they spent the other nights having dinner at either their house or Bass's, staying up late into the night to play cards and hang out. Unless of course, Claire was coming over, then they cleared out as soon as dinner finished. To say there was no love lost between the two women was an understatement. Charlie felt no guilt for that except for the stress it put on Bass; trying to balance both Claire and his friends ate at him, and she knew it.

Their drinks arrived and Bass scooped up Miles's as well as his own. "Don't mind if I do."

Charlie laughed. "How was work?"

"Fine, it's fine." He glanced at her when she raised an eyebrow. "There's just a lot to prepare for these treaties...a lot of planning. Let's talk about anything else. Let's talk about you. Any more thoughts on what you'd like to do?"

"Not really." Her eyes scanned around the bar. "There's not a lot I know how to do, Bass."

"Oh, that's bullshit, Charlie."

Her head whipped around, hurt in her eyes as she looked at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, you're one of the most brilliant, talented, beautiful, smart women I've ever met. And you are a damn fine fighter. One of the best I've ever seen or trained. You're strong too...you walked hundreds of miles just to get your brother back. You threw everything I had going for a loop, Charlie." His bright blue eyes bored into her; she almost found it hard to breathe when he stared at her so intensely. "There were a lot of factors, but you, making that trek, ended my republic."

"I..." She was speechless. He thought she was smart; he thought she was beautiful?

"I'm not blaming you. Honestly, I should fall on my knees and thank you for getting me out of there." He finally broke eye contact and looked away. "If anything, you saved me."

"I-I did?"

"A few times." His eyes locked back on her, his voice low and rough. "If the Rangers didn't choose you, Charlie, that's their loss. Anyone who doesn't want you at their side or watching their back is a fool."

There was nothing in the world he could have said that meant more than that. It was one thing to hear it from Miles. But to know that Bass, the man who had been her greatest enemy and become one of her best friends, one of the strongest men she'd ever known, thought she was not only a good person but a good fighter. It was the best gift he could ever give her.

She felt the tears swim into her eyes. "Thank you, Bass."

He reached up and grabbed her hand, squeezing her fingers gently. Her eyes glanced at their fingers before returning to meet his gaze. For just a moment, she felt like she was falling; she swore all the candles in the room dimmed. But then it passed, and she realized she and Bass were staring at each other. She slipped her hand out from his and it seemed to break whatever haze had settled around them.

He cleared his throat, his voice no longer gruff and low. "I mean it, Charlie. Don't let this stop you. Like Miles and I said, we could use you on our team...you're a good tracker...maybe you could do some detective work for us."

She wrinkled her nose. "Do you need that?"

"It comes up in government issues more than you know." He shot her that Bass grin and she chuckled. "Speaking of Miles."

She glanced over as her uncle walked in the door, waving him over to their table. Maybe Bass was right, maybe losing out to the Rangers wasn't the end of everything for her. Some small part of her felt like she'd just gained something far more important. Respect from the men who mattered most.

XXXXXXXXXX

Five days later, Blanchard called Miles and Monroe into his Willoughby office for an emergency late night meeting. Since the Patriots had been run out of town, Willoughby had become the main headquarters of the new Texas government. Austin still held a central position, but Willoughby housed most of the men and women rebuilding after the Patriot surge. This was largely in part to their two top Generals refusing to leave the small Texas town.

"Alright, Frank, what the hell are we doing here?" Bass sighed, dropping down into a chair.

Miles rolled his eyes, as Blanchard's expression darkened. "Oh, I'm sorry, Monroe. Am I interrupting your sexual activities with the head of my Rangers?"

Damn, did everybody know? "What do you want?"

"Bass," Miles said, motioning at his best friend. "What's going on, Frank?"

"We have a problem. The Claiborne gang is out of the treaty."

"What?" Bass said.

Miles was two seconds behind. "The hell? They were totally on board with us."

"Yeah...well, their leader, that tattooed, pierced son of a bitch, changed his mind. He didn't want to live by the rules of Texas," Blanchard explained.

"I told you not to include that rule about taxes, Frank," Bass said. "I dealt with this kind of stuff in the Republic."

"We're offering them land and security. All citizens of the Texas Republic pay taxes. Why should these clans be exempt?" Blanchard snatched his hat off his head and slammed it onto his desk.

"Because war clans are even more attached to their finances," Bass said. "Sometimes enough to kill for it."

"He's right, Frank," Miles chided. "You didn't want to be bullied and now this. So what are we going to do about it? We need all of them on board or the entire thing falls apart."

"Well, it's worse than that, Miles." Blanchard dropped into his chair. He looked every bit his age at that moment. "They've attacked a few towns."

Bass and Miles locked eyes for a minute, an entire conversation happening in the same amount of time. This wouldn't be allowed to stand. They were going to have to go after and take down the Claiborne clan. "How bad is it?"

"There have been some casualties."

"Where are they?" Bass asked.

"Right now, we don't know. They hit Fairview, Parkersburg, Hopewell, then they just disappeared. The Rangers can't find them," Blanchard said.

"And yet you're turning down excellent applicants," Bass muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," Miles said, shooting a glare at Bass. "Well, we're going to have to find them, Frank. Go out and try to track them from one of those towns."

Blanchard nodded. "You want me to assemble a team?"

Miles shook his head. "We'll get our own."

"Yeah, our tracker's better than yours," Bass said, earning another look from Miles. He shrugged at him.

"We'll be ready first thing in the morning," Miles said.

Blanchard was about to agree, when a Ranger rushed into the room, quickly nodding at all three men. "Generals, we have a problem."

"What is it, Pierce?"

"We spotted a large gang approaching the outskirts of town."

Miles and Bass jumped up. "A large gang?"

"We think it's the war clan, General Monroe."

"And where the hell are they?" Miles asked.

"They're coming in from the west side."

"The west side?" Bass's throat was dry as he spoke. That was where his house was. The Matheson/Porter residence was next door. That was where they'd left Charlie, Gene, and Eddie.

Alone.

* * *

><p>AN: Please leave a comment if you have a moment. You'll see chapter 3 (by LostInMysticFalls in a week or so).

Credit: Chapter title comes from Led Zeppelin.


	3. Into The Night

We'll never know which way this road is gonna turn

And can't be sure how quick your wick is gonna burn

So sing to me your darkest secrets

Time to leave behind your regrets

Before we get lost in a blink of an eye

- Alkaline Trio

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Into the Night<strong> (by LostinMysticFalls)

The last traces of summer lingered in the air, the breeze still permeated with the heat of the dying day. Aaron, Priscilla and Rachel were approaching the town of Bradbury, Idaho. From the distance they could see the glitter of lights partly hidden between the hills that nestled the doomed, little town. Aaron reined in his horse, staring at the spectacle ahead and then giving his companions a look of concern.

"How is that even possible?" He muttered, not necessarily asking for an explanation but rather entertaining the idea himself. He already knew that the answer to this surge in power was due to the ever increasing activity of the nano. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

His evil little creations had turned into his worst nightmare, and Aaron was the first to admit he wasn't the bravest amongst the group. How he'd survived the post-electric world was something that still boggled his mind from time to time.

"I think we're past the realm of possibilities," Rachel sighed. "But I wonder what could be so special about Bradbury that the nano decided to make it its hub?"

"A town in the middle of nowhere, only stumbled upon by lost souls, sounds like the perfect place if you ask me." Priscilla mused. "Whatever it is, it can't be good."

There was a long, contemplative pause before they continued on their way, the lights growing brighter and almost spellbinding the closer they got. Coming upon the entrance of the town, they noticed the herd of people being guided toward an old-fashioned ice cream shop. Aaron and Rachel knew this was what Priscilla had seen in her mind—people wandering mindlessly, like bugs attracted to glaring light.

Aaron's eyes drifted towards the ice cream shop, a creepy clown bearing a nefarious smile looked back at them. It was like he was reveling in their misfortune. If they could actually hear him laugh, Aaron was sure it'd be the most haunting sound he'd ever heard. "The grinning man?" He said quietly, referring to Priscilla's description of her visions.

Priscilla stared at it for a few seconds and then nodded but her eyes spoke in a way that made Aaron think she wasn't entirely convinced. "That's one of the images I saw but I have this odd feeling–"

"About what?" Rachel asked, her horse becoming agitated for no apparent reason. It began moving about in circles as if trying to escape an invisible threat. The neighs rumbling from its throat were full of anguish and fright. The zombified people walked past them, going around the disturbance without reacting to what was happening. They continued their pilgrimage towards the shop without once looking in their direction.

Aaron hopped off his saddle, trying his best to calm Rachel's horse but producing only minimal effect. The distraught animal relaxed for a few seconds, just enough for Rachel to jump off and step away. After a while, it ran off in the opposite direction, away from the town.

Deep down, the knew they should have taken this as a sign that whatever resided in Bradbury was bad news but they'd travelled too far already to give up that easily. They weren't going to turn around now.

* * *

><p>Charlie laughed at Eddie as he tried to recite a joke that he'd heard from one of the grown ups in town. He was having a hard time remembering it and had already sabotaged the punchline several times. Her grandpa was seated on the rocking chair on the porch. His illness had subsided and the worst of it was now past them. Gene was well on his way to being healthy again. This development had returned a sense of normalcy and calm to Charlie's daily routine.<p>

"I'm going to get a glass of water." Eddie chimed, giving up on his joke telling. "Anyone else want one?"

Charlie and Gene both shook their heads as the kid made his way inside the house. Charlie smiled, he reminded her of Danny in a way, and seeing a childlike innocence alive in him gave her hope that not everything good in the world was lost. The bleakness that constantly surrounded them was sometimes inescapable and had transformed her into a downright cynic. Moments like these reminded her that there was always light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how grave the circumstances.

Charlie pursed her lips, turning to Gene. "Grandpa, you should be in bed by now." She said sweetly, "You need your rest."

"Nah. I'm feeling much better these days. Besides, I also want to know how Miles and Monroe's meeting with Blanchard went." He looked at his granddaughter, noticing a tinge of happiness in her demeanor.

"Bass." Charlie said, exhaling in a way that made Gene's head tilt in attention. "His name's Bass, grandpa."

Gene felt like he was the only one seeing things for what they really were. The circumstances had long changed and he'd taken notice of how that had also shaped Charlie's relationship with the former General. "Careful, Charlie." He warned, "Best not to get caught off guard in these situations."

Charlie furrowed her eyebrows, blindsided by his comment. "What's that supposed to mean?" She chuckled.

He smiled, "Bass." The way he said his name was almost taunting. Like a child mocking another in a playground. His eyebrows raised, crinkling his forehead as if that was enough of an explanation. "What's going on between you two?" taunting

Charlie was silent for a moment. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing going on between her and Bass and yet her grandpa was acting like they were in the midst of a torrid love affair. "We're friends." She smiled, a bit surprised by how natural and effortless it had been to call him that.

"Friends." Gene muttered. He glanced at Charlie, realizing that he truly was the only one without a blindfold on. "Do me a favor," He began, "Be careful, okay? The last thing I'd want is for you to get hurt." There was a moment of utter silence before he concluded, "And I don't mean physically."

Charlie smiled, unsure of why he was giving her such advice. If there was one thing she was good at, it was handling Bass with care. Sure, he was a different person now and they even found time to joke around and poke fun at each other. But a man like him always invited danger and she knew how to take care of herself in those situations.

She looked up at the dark sky, the moon was so bright that it was hard to see the stars in its vicinity. Charlie deduced it was probably close to midnight by now and wondered how much longer it would be until Bass and Miles returned with news of the treaty. She tried to imagine what they talked about and how it had panned out. Miles and Bass knew how to negotiate—she was sure it had gone well. A loud howling in the distance broke her reverie. Her eyes fluttered, turning to Gene in bewilderment.

"Was that a coyote or wolf?" She asked.

Gene stood from the rocking chair, leaning over the railing of the porch and staring down the long endless road leading away from the house. "That didn't sound like an animal to me." He replied, making Charlie's skin crawl.

His eyes widened and his lips parted, noticing the fiery torches and hearing the blaring yammering coming their way. "We need go inside."

Charlie's heart began to beat faster, fueled by adrenaline and uncertainty. She took a quick glance at the intruders. It was a group of about twenty men. They carried torches and weapons, no visible heavy artillery but plenty of machetes and chains. Their faces were covered in what seemed like paint but it became evident the closer they got that it was actually the splatter of fresh blood that tainted their skin.

"Let's go!" She grabbed her grandpa's arm. "Let's go!" She screamed this time as they scrambled inside the house. Their eyes tried desperately to focus in the darkness, searching for a place that would keep them safe.

Gene's first instinct was to run upstairs, thinking that it would buy them time until they figured out what to do and how to fend off the invaders. But Charlie knew these men weren't the compromising type. Words would do no good. They were there for only one thing. Blood.

* * *

><p>Priscilla was beginning to doubt their mission. "I don't like this one bit." She muttered as they walked between the crowd of people.<p>

Rachel looked around, noticing that the buildings were all lit. Every room in every motel, every house, every ransacked store, they all had power and yet they didn't seem to be housing anyone. Every human being was out on the street, congregating in front of the ice cream shop as if waiting for a speech or important announcement.

"Where exactly are we going?" The blonde grumbled, elbowing Aaron on the ribs.

He stopped, letting every other person on autopilot pass them by. "We have to think that the purpose of these people is that of vessels. The nano is gathering them here to take over them, kind of like they did with Priscilla."

"You think that if we wait here with them, we'll find out what the nano's planning to do." Priscilla concluded, making Aaron nod in response.

"Great." Rachel said with a hint of sarcasm. Her lips pursed as she surveyed her surroundings. Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, making her turn in an instant and direct her eyes towards the last floor of a third story office building.

Aaron looked on, "What is it? What did you see?"

Rachel's eyes were wild. "There's someone up there." She pointed at the window and began walking away without waiting for a response.

"Wait!" Aaron reached out to her in an attempt to stop her. "We don't know who or what that might be." Priscilla followed silently, fright evident on her face.

Rachel cocked an eyebrow. "Look around you. Every single one of those people have no idea they're even here. Whoever is up there is likely conscious and aware. If we just stand here we're still clueless. We'd be no different than those... mindless... zombie things." She uttered the last words slowly.

"She's right. We need answers, Aaron." Priscilla agreed, nodding at Rachel to show she was on board with her plan.

They reached the entrance to the building and pushed the door open. The building itself was almost empty, it was obvious that it had fallen victim to looting and endless vandalism. The lights inside were dim, the unstable power making the lightbulbs flare up every few seconds. Aaron felt like he was in a sci-fi video game level, making his anxiety that much worse every time they reached a dark corner.

"Stairs." Priscilla muttered, pointing to the wooden steps down the hall.

The wood was rotting, pieces of floor were missing, making them feel increasingly unsafe the higher up they climbed. By the time they reached the second floor Aaron was starting to wheeze like a asthmatic kid who had just ran a lap. Priscilla placed her hand on his back, rubbing it in a soothing manner as they continued onto the third floor.

Rachel ears perked at the sound of footsteps coming from down the hall. They carefully paced closer, listening upon each door until they reached the one they were searching for. There were voices coming from inside, low and discreet.

"Do we have everything?" The woman's voice questioned. The was no reply except for the sound of bags being zipped up.

Aaron's eyebrows furrowed, "I know that voice. It's–"

The door swung open, Grace and Peter stood before them looking just as shocked as them. "What are you guys doing here?" He asked surprised.

Aaron was still processing what was happening. "The nano told us to come here." Priscilla answered.

"You too?" Rachel asked, noticing Grace and Peter were in a hurry to get out of there. "Do you know why this is happening?"

Grace nodded. "We'll explain but right now, we need to go."

"Why?" Aaron muttered. "What is going on?" He wanted answers. He was tired of running an fleeing without explanations.

Grace and Peter ignored his inquiry and flew down the stairs, knowing exactly where to step and which areas of the floor to avoid. They'd been there a while, that much was clear. They hurried out of the building, Rachel, Priscilla and Aaron trailing behind. They had no clue where they were going but they knew they were the only people in town they could trust.

* * *

><p>The Claiborne clan hit the Matheson house like a force of nature. The door was rammed down, furniture overturned and everything violently thrown and flung across the air as they searched for any sign of life. The men were in some kind of half-conscious state, anger the only emotion being expelled from their beings.<p>

Charlie and Gene remained locked in one of the hidden compartments of the cellar. She peeked through the crevices, seeing nothing but darkness, a sign that the men had yet to enter the lower level of the house.

"I need to find Eddie." She said, her chest tightening with fright of what might become of the young boy.

"No." Gene replied, knowing that wasn't the answer Charlie wanted to hear. "You can't take on those men by yourself, Charlie. They'll kill you."

"And if I don't go out there they will kill Eddie."

_Let them kill Eddie_. The thought ran through Gene's head. He wasn't a bad man but if losing him meant keeping Charlie alive, he didn't have to think twice about it. It seemed unscrupulous but Charlie was his blood. "Miles will be here any minute. Let him handle it."

Charlie shook her head. There was no guarantee of that and she couldn't live with herself knowing she just let that boy die in order to save her own skin. She opened the door to the small compartment, "I'll back back. Stay here."

"Charlie–" her grandpa's words were dulled by her own thoughts. She scurried towards the cellar doors that led outside, pushing against them and praying that they weren't locked.

The force of her hands and arms wasn't doing a thing. Charlie tried kicking them open to no avail. Afraid that she was making too much noise, she decided to try the window instead. It would be one quick shattering of glass and she would have to be swift in order to get out of there before anyone came to investigate. Was stupid and reckless? Yes. But Charlie felt like it was her only choice.

She grabbed her gun and hit the glass with the barrel, breaking it on impact. Charlie slipped through the small opening, shards of glass cutting her arms and injuring her stomach. If she hadn't seen the blood, she would've never noticed. The rush of adrenaline made her insensible to pain.

The air outside felt different, there was a heaviness that made her feel suppressed. She stood up, brushing dirt off of her and examining the cuts on her arms. They weren't very deep but would probably require care later on.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here." A tall, brawny man stood before her, his eyes dark and hollow like those of an apparition. He had piercings in his ears and face and a large tattoo that covered most of his neck.

Charlie tried to hide her fear. "Where's the boy?" She pointed her gun at him.

A large, wide smile appeared on his face. "There is no boy. Not anymore." He replied robotically.

The anger consumed her, fueling her desire to fight back. She cocked the gun and before he could say another word, she pulled the trigger, hitting him in the stomach and causing him to bend over in pain. After a few seconds he stood back up, charging towards her with all his might.

Charlie fired the gun again, missing him by inches this time. He pinned her to the ground, one hand wrapped around her neck while the other raised the machete in the air. The glimmer of the moon made the metal shine, its blade visibly sharp. Charlie knew this was it. If she didn't manage to get a clean shot, the last thing she'd see before she died was him. The face of pure evil. She grappled with him, trying to push him off of her, legs tussling and arms trying to tear him to pieces.

"Good night, bitch." He said menacingly, swinging his weapon towards her. Charlie closed her eyes, awaiting her fate. Everything around her came to a standstill. She'd been on the precipice of death before but this time it was different. She felt like she was losing so much more.

A loud gunshot rang in her ears and she felt the weight of the man fall on top of her, punching the air out of her stomach. When she opened her eyes, she saw Bass standing beside her. He pushed the man off her and crouched down to help her up. The blade had found its way to her flesh, creating a gash on her upper leg and making it bleed profusely.

"What did those bastards do to you?" He demanded, that innate need to protect her rising inside him.

Charlie shook her head, "Nothing. They didn't do anything to me." Her eyes were watery, "But I think they killed Eddie."

He hugged her. "I'm sorry, Charlie." He said, sharing her sentiment.

Her head snapped up at the sound of gunshots going off inside the house, "Miles and Blanchard are taking care of the ones inside." Charlie looked around the yard as they walked toward his house, the bodies of seven men laid lifeless on the ground. She knew those had all died by Bass's hand and she didn't feel sorry for any of them.

* * *

><p>Charlie's eyes were red and irritated from the tears she had shed over the boy that symbolized the last of the innocence left in her life. He'd been another casualty she'd been unable to avoid and that ate at her more than anything.<p>

"It's not your fault." Bass muttered, watching as she pulled down her pants and took a seat on the wooden chair. His eyes couldn't help noticing her milky legs, untouched by the sun and smooth like silk. He handed her a towel and she draped it over her upper thighs, shielding her undergarments from view.

"I know." She replied. It was a selfish thought but the fact that the boy was dead only served as a reminder that the good things in her life weren't permanent. "I just wish I would've had a chance to do something."

Grabbing a piece of cloth dipped in alcohol, she pulled her shirt up, exposing the side that had been injured. Bass looked away. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable. She applied pressure to the cuts, relaxing her breathing and combating the pain.

Bass drenched a sterile cloth with alcohol, cleaning the wound on her leg as Charlie nursed the ones on her arms and stomach. She tightened her jaw at the stinging sensation. "And then maybe you would be the one dead." Bass said.

He stopped what he was doing and looked her in the eyes. Charlie wondered if he'd miss her, if he'd cry over her loss if anything were to ever happen to her. She'd known Bass for a long time and couldn't recall ever seeing him cry before.

Her lip quivered as she struggled to speak but everything that needed to be said was expressed with their eyes. They remained that way for a few moment before Bass went back to working on her wound. Charlie looked at him and smiled, even though she knew he was unaware of the gesture.

Gene watched them from the other side of the room, "Those clueless fools." He murmured.

"What?" Miles asked, wrapping his own arm in gauze.

"Nothing." He replied, opting to change the subject. "What could possibly cause someone to do something like this?"

Miles pursed his lips in deep thought. "I think it was obvious those guys were acting more like killing machines than actual human beings." He finished dressing his wound.

The presence of Blanchard halted them all to attention. "We have a live one." He announced.

Bass finished patching up Charlie's wound and came to his feet, eager to find out more. Charlie's hand clasped onto his wrist, "I want to come."

He shook his head, "You need to stay here and–"

"I'm coming with you guys." It wasn't a request.

* * *

><p>Bass helped a limping Charlie as they and Miles followed Blanchard to the back of the house. The surviving clan member was tied to a tree by one of his own chains. He was bleeding abundantly and they all knew he only had a few minutes left to answer any questions they may have.<p>

Bass went first, he took a hold of the man's chin and tilted his head up. "Who are you working for?"

"I don't know." He said weakly, blood dripping from his mouth.

"Look, you're going to die anyway. You can either go gently or in great pain." He pressed his finger into one of his wounds, making him scream in pain. "Who are you working for?" He growled.

The man cried, "I don't know. I don't remember."

Blanchard spoke, "He says he has no recollection of what he did. It's either all bull or he really was in some kind of weird trance."

Bass was getting ready to up the ante when Miles stepped in. "Let me." He looked at the man's eyes, noticing how alert he was of his surroundings. "What do you remember?"

The man's breathing became heavy, he spoke in pauses, his words were getting difficult to hear. "Bradbury. We were ordered to go to Bradbury."

"Who ordered you to go there?"

He began coughing, making it hard for him to talk. The minutes were running thin. "My little girl." Tears began running down his face but his state had no impact on those around them. "I thought it was a miracle. That she was somehow alive again." He was struggling to speak.

The group shared knowing looks and a sense of dread filled Miles to the core. "I need to warn Rachel and the group. If all of this is coming from Bradbury then they're in danger."

"If your friends are there, chances are they're already dead." The oxygen around him didn't seem to be enough, it was like watching a fish out of water. "You can't win," he said before expiring.

* * *

><p>Peter and Grace led the three to an underground housing compound at the other side of town. It had proven useful during the time of prohibition and they figured they wouldn't find a better place to hide than there, even though it wasn't necessarily foolproof. It was the best they had at the moment.<p>

They immediately began setting up their equipment. "We've been trying to figure out a way to create a new code." Grace began, "This is the only place we know of where the electricity is constantly on."

"Do you know what the nano is doing?" Rachel asked.

Peter went about the question carefully. "They're controlling the weak of mind. From what we've seen those are all–"

"Criminals, murderers, mentally unstable and dangerous individuals." Aaron chimed in.

Peter nodded, "Yeah. And they're doing it in waves." He opened the laptop and began typing. "A few days ago they activated a war clan and sent them out on a mission to Texas. They're trying to eliminate those who aren't susceptible to control."

Rachel felt her heart drop to her stomach. "Texas?"

Everyone knew what that entailed. "They're not indestructible," Peter said, trying to provide her with some peace of mind. "As far as we know they all take orders from President Davis and his right hand man. A fellow named Truman."

"Truman is here?" Aaron said, a chill crawling down his back. "Why Bradbury? Why is this the only place with power? What do they want?"

"Aaron we know some things but not everything." Grace replied. "Those out there, the mindless wanderers that you ran into when you got here. They've been gathering in front of that shop for days now, and we still don't know why. All we know is they've been growing in numbers."

Priscilla stared blankly at the wall. "Something evil is coming, I can feel it." She said ominously.

* * *

><p>The sun peaked its head over the horizon. Connor opened his eyes, noticing that the wagon was moving. Did this guy ever sleep? He propped himself up on his elbow before coming to a full seated position. Jeremy turned his head, noticing he was awake.<p>

"Good morning, sunshine!" He said, a smirk forming on his lips.

Connor rolled his eyes, jumping over to the front and sitting next to him. "Why are you doing this?" They'd been riding for a few days now and it was the first time he was asking him about his motives.

They had left Tom Neville behind. He had been adamant about following through with his journey to Bradbury, Idaho. Connor wasn't about to embark on an adventure with a man who was obviously mentally deranged, so he agreed to take Jeremy Baker up on his offer without ever questioning why he was helping him.

Jeremy smiled, "You know kid, I'm not a good guy." His eyes were focused on the road. "This right here," he showed him the militia tattoo, "Is proof enough of that."

Connor narrowed his eyes, "You were part of the Monroe Militia."

"And I did a lot of things I'm not proud of," he replied. "Do you know how many times there were kids out on the street that I could've helped? Kids who were in danger or simply needed something to eat. I'm not on the path to sainthood by any means but if I can do one good deed for every hundred bad ones I've done in my life, then that's good enough for me."

Connor was tempted to tell him that he was now lending a helping hand to the son of the man who'd gotten him wrapped up in those evil deeds. And even though he didn't know Jeremy at all, he did have a feeling that things probably wouldn't end well for him if he found out he was a Monroe. That was better kept under wraps for the time being.

"You mentioned an apocalypse." Connor chuckled at the word, finding it ridiculous. "What was that all about?"

Jeremy gave him a reprimanding look. "That thing that happened to Neville, that's happening to others everywhere else." He gulped, "I've seen what they can do. They walk around without any control over themselves, and the puppet master—whoever it is—makes them do vile, ugly things. They're murdering families without remorse, eliminating the weak for no rhyme or reason."

Connor's stomach twisted in knots, he was beginning to feel sick. He'd seen death before, after all, he did live most of his life under a drug lord's roof. But this was different, it wasn't killing in retaliation or fighting over turf, it was senseless killing.

"My father will be able to help. I'm sure of it." He asserted, feeling a bit on edge thinking of Jeremy's reaction to seeing Bass again.

"Ah, the illusive father who lives on the Texas and Mexico border. You know kid, every time you talk about him, my intrigue grows. I can't wait to meet him, he sounds like a admirable man."

Connor smiled, staring at the road in front of them in silence.

* * *

><p>Rachel's heart still felt heavy after the news of the night before. She wished there was a way to warn Miles and everyone back in Texas of the things that were coming their way. And for all she knew, the worst might have already happened. She followed Aaron as the group inched closer to the center of town.<p>

The people were still there but everything was encompassed in an eerie silence. She would've thought them all dead had they not been standing upright with their eyes fixed on the cheerful clown.

"We've been doing this every day, a few times a day, hoping that someone will show up and give some kind of explanation." Grace said quietly.

They hid behind the building where the group had found them the night before. The sun was beaming down but its warmth was fading with the last remaining days of summer. They were there for a long while, Aaron had opted to sit against the wall out of boredom and Priscilla had joined him a few minutes later. After what seemed like another fruitless trip into town, they were getting ready to return to their hideout.

"Wait." Peter said, "I think I see Davis and Truman up in the front."

Rachel stood on her toes, catching a glimpse of the men as they approached the shop. In front of the entrance, they'd managed to build a stage, something that looked more like a collection of soap boxes lined in a row. Truman and Davis took their place, leaving a gap between them.

"Great news, fellow brothers and sister!" Truman declared, "Our leader has finally arrived in Bradbury!" The people in the crowd began moving, their head's twitching from side to side as if awakening from a slumber.

"You made now come forth!" Davis ordered.

It was as if a switched had been turned. The people in the crowd were alert, cheering and clapping as their so-called leader stepped forward.

"Is that–" Rachel muttered.

"Tom Neville." Aaron said. He held Priscilla's hand, tightening it as the realization set in.

Fireflies appeared above, as if emanating from the clown's face. They swirled in a funnel shape over Neville and then disappeared into him. He raised his arms up, absorbing them and laughing maniacally.

Priscilla swallowed hard, looking at each of them before muttering, "That's the grinning man."

* * *

><p>AN: Please leave a comment if you have a moment. Chapter 4 will be posted (by DriverPicksTheMusic) in a week or so.

Credit: Chapter title is the name of the song by Alkaline Trio that was quoted at the beginning.


	4. What Is And What Should Never Be

And if you say to me tomorrow

Oh what fun it all would be

Then what's to stop us pretty baby

but what is and what should never be

-Led Zeppelin

* * *

><p>Gene made his way around to the back of the house, what was left of it anyway, just in time to hear Miles declare that he needed to go after Rachel, warn her about what was happening.<p>

"I'll go, you'll be needed here." Gene said as he made his way over to the group.

Miles cocked his head slightly and looked him over before shaking his head "Nope, you wouldn't even make it to the city limits before you keeled over." he said. "You're the only doctor left around, we need you to get better and back to fighting form so to speak, for when we really need you."

Gene nodded in resignation. Miles was right, he was out of breath and ready for a sit down after just the short walk around the house.

Charlie stepped forward. "I'll go then, I can get to mom and Aaron and let them know what's happening, you stay, Bass and Blanchard are going to need you here more than me anyway."

"No." Miles and Bass declared in unison. The two men shared a look before Miles spoke.

"There's no way you're going off on your own when there could be more of these guys on the loose out there." he said, holding up a hand to stop Charlie when she opened her mouth to protest.

"I know you're strong and capable," He said. "but the average clansmen are ruthless and these guys obviously aren't your average clansmen so there's no way I can just let you go."

Charlie was still ready to protest. There was no reason why she couldn't do this. She was just as able to take care of herself as anyone else, and she was going to let Miles know that, until Bass reached out a hand and laid it lightly on her arm, drawing her attention to himself where he stood beside her.

"He's right Charlie. We need you here." he said and nodded to Gene. "He needs you, I don't really think he's going to let Miles or I either one take care of him, and he obviously still needs help from someone." he said, know this was the best way to get her to agree to stay without too much of a fight.

Charlie sighed and nodded and looked at her grandfather. "You're right." she said as she turned back to Bass and rolled her eyes, knowing he had played dirty pulling the sick grandpa card. "I'll stay." she said.

Bass smirked and they both turned back to Miles, who was looking surprised that Charlie had given in so easily.

"Alright then, that settles it," Miles stated. "I'll head out as soon as we get things settled here."

…

They found a clearing by a stream where they decided to stop for a while and Connor was sure that Jeremy was going to rest for a while. The man had to stop going at some point right? But Jeremy surprised him by letting him know it was going to be a short rest, just long enough to water the horses and then they would be on their way again.

Getting a little tired of riding, Connor decided to stretch his legs for a few minutes until it was time to hit the road once again.

"Where are you going?" Jeremy asked as he unhitched a horse to rub it down and give it some water, noticing Connor walking towards the tree line a short ways away.

Connor glanced back over his shoulder but kept walking. "Nature calls." he said with a smirk.

But Connor never made it to the trees. When he turned back around he was stopped by a knife to his throat as half a dozen men walked into the clearing. They were roughly the same size and build as Jeremy and himself and obviously armed.

Connor held his head still as he held his hands out to his sides, showing them he was unarmed, his own knife still sheathed at his waist, his gun in the wagon.

"We don't have any money." he informed the men as four of them grabbed a hold of Jeremy.

The man holding the knife laughed. "We ain't interested in your money boy, its your horses and supplies we want."

The other man standing there grabbed Connor by one arm and spun him around as he started to walk him back towards Jeremy and the other four men.

Jeremy looked up and met Connors eyes and all Connor could think was that he wished his dad were here.

…

Blanchard was fuming. Miles made plans to up and leave right when he needed him most. They were in the middle of treaty negotiations and Miles was in the thick of things with him.

"You're going to have to get by without me for a while." Miles told the man as he strapped his pack down to his horse. "I told you, Rachel could be in danger. That's my family, I can't just let that go because you need me to hold your hand." he said, frustrated by the whole situation.

Miles knew that Frank needed him here, but getting to the others was more important right now, so they were all going to have to deal with it.

Frank walked off in a huff after that parting shot, passing Bass on his way, shoulder checking him for the heck of it.

Bass frowned and watched Frank walk away as he made his way over to Miles. "What was that about?" he asked his friend.

Miles sighed as he ran a hand over his face. "He's pissed because I'm leaving." he said. "But I can't just let this go because of a promise I made before we knew the others could end up in this kind of trouble. Or worse."

Bass knew Miles was being stretched thin at the moment. He knew that Miles hated feeling like he was leaving them in the lurch, but he also knew there was no other option for Miles to take at the moment.

Bass sighed, knowing he would regret this in the future. "Look, I'm already involved in this, I can take over for you too until you can get back."

Miles furrowed his brows and looked skeptical. "You will?"

Bass sighed. "Yeah well, it's either that or you stay here while I go after the others, and I'm sorry but that's not gonna work for me." he said. He really has no desire to help Blanchard more than he already was, no desire at all to get into the political aspect of everything.. But he had even less desire to go chase down Rachel.

Miles smirked. "Might take a little convincing to get Frank on board with that idea."

Bass shrugged, his own smirk in place. "He can take the help or leave it, but at this point I'm pretty good in knowing what not to do."

Miles laughed and clapped a hand onto Bass' shoulder. "Thank you brother." he said and Bass smiled at the term of endearment that was rare coming from the man beside him.

He quickly schooled his features as he shrugged once again. "Anything to keep me from having to go after Rachel and her merry band of misfits."

Miles rolled his eyes but the smirk stayed in place as they headed back to the others.

…

Charlie made sure Gene was comfortable in a chair on the porch before she made her way inside the house where Miles and Bass were, surveying the damage.

"Well this is bad." she said as she looked around what was left of the kitchen.

Bass nodded as he ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Yeah, they did a pretty thorough job."

Charlie sighed and stepped over a broken chair. "Grandpa asked me to check and see if any of his medical supplies survived." she informed the other two before walking out of the room.

Bass watched her go with his hands on his hips, before turning to Miles. "These guys really didn't mess around huh?"

Miles sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah." he said, sounding weary once again. "Listen, I hate to ask, I know it's not the most ideal situation, but they can't really stay here..." he said, trailing off.

Bass shook his head and held out a hand to stop him. "No Miles, it's fine, they can stay at my place." he said without hesitation. "We'll figure it out don't worry about it." Bass reassured him. "I can handle things here."

Miles nodded in thanks and called out to Charlie. "Kid, I'm gonna hit the road." he said, getting her attention from the other room.

Charlie came back into the room. "I'm going to have to have Grandpa come back here and look over things, but it looks like a lot of his things made it through." she said.

Miles nodded and held out a hand to help her over some broken furniture and dishes on the floor. "That's great," he said. "Listen, you and Gene are going to stay with Bass while I'm gone." he informed her while they all made their way back outside.

Charlie nodded and glanced at Bass. "Thank you." she said to him and turned back to Miles. "We'll be fine Miles, we'll take care of things here, you just go find Mom."

Miles pointed a finger at each other them in turn. "Keep an eye on each other. And please, for the love of God..."

Bass and Charlie both smiled and in unison said, "Keep the stupid to a minimum."

Miles rolled his eyes and nodded. "Right, just behave." he said as he swung himself up onto his horse.

"Miles." Charlie said, stopping him before he rode away.

He looked down at her and raised his brows. Charlie smiled lightly at him and tapped her hand against his leg. "You be careful too ok?"

Miles nodded and gave her a wink. "Aren't I always?" he asked before flicking the rains and riding off.

Bass put his hand on Charlie's back as he guided her back to the porch where they had left Gene. "He'll be fine Charlie, this is Miles after all. Toughest SOB I've ever met."

Charlie nodded at the reassurance and headed for the house.

…

Connor locked eyes with Jeremy just in time to see the smirk on his face. Frowning, Connor couldn't figure out what he could possibly be smiling about, but he didn't have to wait long to find out.

Before Connor had time to blink, Jeremy had freed himself from the two men holding his arms, ready for the other two men standing nearby.

Connor took the moment of surprise to jerk his head back, slamming it into the face of the man holding onto him, ducking down to avoid the knife in the other mans hand.

While one man was crouched down, grabbing at his bloodied nose, Connor was able to grab the other man's arm and knock the knife away, bringing his own arm up and using the heel of his hand to break the man's nose.

When the man stumbled and leaned forward, off balance, Connor reached out and grabbed the back of the man's head, holding him while he drove his knee up into the man's face, officially knocking him unconscious.

Connor turned and saw the first man had just stumbled to his feet, and with one solid punch, the man was on the ground once more, where Connor took the opportunity to deliver a quick kick to his face, leaving him to join his buddy in dream land.

Connor turned to help Jeremy and was surprised to find two of the other four men dead on the ground and a machete in Jeremy's hand as he took on the final two men. Blood dripped from Jeremy's lip, but other than that he looked no worse for wear.

Connor was almost mesmerized as he watched Jeremy, the flow in which he moved, the blade slicing through the air as he easily dispatched the last of the men that attacked them.

He could count on one hand the number of people he had ever seen that fought like that, moved that fluidly, as if the weapon were just an extension of themselves.

When the last man fell Jeremy wiped the blood from his lip and looked to Connor, and he smirked again. "Well that was fun." he said. "But how about we get moving before we find out if these fellas have any friends nearby?"

…

Gene sat down in a chair in Bass' living room, a backpack full of his own clothing at his feet. He dropped his head forward into his hand, his elbow resting on his thigh, and he let out a tired sigh. It had been a long night and it was dragging out into an even longer day. The kind of day that made him miss his dear beautiful Charlotte all the more.

"You look about as hot as I feel."

Gene lifted his head and saw Frank Blanchard standing in the doorway. "Can I help you with something?" he asked the other man.

Frank walked inside and looked around. "Matheson leave?" he asked and Gene nodded.

"Guess not then." Frank said, answering Gene's question. He sat down in the chair next to Gene's and leaned back and groaned.

Gene raised his brows at the other man but didn't say anything. Just then Bass and Charlie walked through the door. Charlie carrying two duffel bags full of their clothes and other personal belonging, and Bass easily lugging a trunk full of medical supplies, a smirk on his face as Charlie laughed at something he had said.

Gene glanced down at the one backpack he had carried, the one bag that had tired him out, and sighed.

Blanchard watched the two younger people walk through the house, neither one acknowledged that he was there, and then he looked towards Gene. "Growing old." he said, getting Gene's attention.

Gene turned to him. "Excuse me?" he asked.

Frank chuckled. "Growing old. It's a bitch ain't it?"

Gene laughed and nodded. "Yeah, yeah it is."

…

Back on the road, Connor sat beside Jeremy as he loosely held the reins. He couldn't get the earlier fight out of his mind. Knowing that he had been part of the militia, Connor couldn't help but wonder if Jeremy had personally known his father, especially after watching him fight.

"So you're a pretty good fighter." he finally said, breaking the silence.

Jeremy glanced at him with a slight grunt, but made no other response.

"Not a lot of people could have taken on four guys like that, and so easily. You must have been good at whatever you did in the militia." Connor said, trying to draw him into a conversation.

Jeremy only nodded.

Connor Sighed. "So tell me about it." he finally came out and said.

Jeremy glanced at him again and a cocked one brow. "About what?"

"You're time in the militia, what did you do exactly? How did you get so good? Did you train under Miles Matheson?" Connor asked.

Jeremy narrowed his eyes slightly and pursed his lips as he pondered how to respond. He didn't really know anything about this kid, but he had seen him today, and he fought better than the average Joe. He had obviously done some time in the trenches, it wouldn't hurt to trade some stories and save the more personal details until he knew if he could trust him or not.

Jeremy finally nodded. "Yeah," he said. "in the early days all the soldiers trained under General Matheson." Jeremy thought back to those early days, when Miles and Bass taught him all he knew about fighting. "You think I'm a good fighter, you should have seen that guy, Matheson was born to hold a sword."

Connor listened, interested in the beginnings of the militia, but he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. It was just his luck to get stuck with another member of the Miles Matheson fan club.

"Of course he knew it too, that could make the guy a real douchebag some times." Jeremy said and Connor laughed. OK, maybe this guy wouldn't be so bad after all.

…

Bass found Charlie outside on the porch. The first of the stars had just started showing up for the night and she was leaning against the rail, head tilted back as she watched the sky as a lantern burned beside her.

"You get settled in OK?" He asked as he stood beside her, his hands in his pockets.

Charlie turned and nodded, a smile on her lips. "Yeah, thanks again for letting us stay here. I know it's probably not your favorite thing, just when you thought you had finally gotten a little space, here we are again, all crowded in together."

He shrugged a shoulder. "It's fine, you guys needed a place, I had the space, it was a no brainer." he said, a soft smile on his face.

Charlie nodded and turned her gaze back to the night sky, the smile slowly slipping from her face.

"Are you alright?" Bass asked when he noticed the forlorn expression.

Charlie shrugged. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

She turned to look at him once more. "Eddie." she said. "He didn't deserve what happened to him, I should have been able to protect him."

"No." Bass said as he reached out and laid his hand on her arm. "Charlie you did everything you could for him. You almost got yourself killed trying to protect him." he said. "You're right, he didn't deserve what happened to him, but neither did you."

Charlie was just opening her mouth to respond when they heard a twig snap in the distance. Bass reached for the gun he had tucked into the waist of his pants as Charlie pulled the knife from her belt.

"Whoa whoa whoa." they heard a voice say as they saw a figure walk closer to the house. "I'm not here to hurt anyone." The man said as he stepped closer, into the circle of light cast by the lantern.

Bass slowly lowered his gun but not his guard as he realized who the man was. "You have got to be kidding me." he said.

Charlie put her knife away as she glanced at Bass, a smile slowly forming on her lips as she turned back to the man in the yard.

"Adam?"

* * *

><p>AN: Please leave a comment if you have a moment. Chapter 5 will posted in a week or so (By LemonSupreme)

Credit: Chapter title is the name of the Led Zeppelin song that was quoted at the beginning.


	5. Sometimes Dead Is Better

"No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side….Or you don't."

- Stephen King, _The Stand_

"Now I know what a ghost is. Unfinished business, that's what."  
>-Salman Rushdie, <em>The Satanic Verses<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Sometimes Dead is Better<strong> (by LemonSupreme)

Miles Matheson is riding his horse through an abandoned town on his way west. He smiles a little as he sees the empty storefronts and vacant lots. It's been a full twenty-four hours since Miles has seen another human being, and the solitude feels good. Yes, he's in a hurry and his mission to get to Rachel as soon as possible is very important, but he can't help but enjoy the quiet while he has it. Miles has no idea what awaits them in Idaho, but he has a feeling he won't get much alone time once he gets to his destination.

Miles has a love/hate relationship with solitude. He relishes his alone time when he can keep the memories at bay and when he can tamp down the guilt. Sometimes though, isolation backfires, and he feels haunted by images from his past. Miles has a dark and often brutal history, and those memories sometimes still feel fresh.

This lonely journey is far better than the last time he was alone – that had not been a good experience at all. He's been stuck in that stupid basement; sure he was going to die. Today is different. Today is almost…pleasant.

He starts to whistle, smiling as he rides along. He's leaving the city limits of the lonely little town when he realizes the tune he's whistling is the theme from the twilight zone.

"Well, shit. That's probably not good."

XXXXXXXXXX

Charlie and Bass both stare in amazement at their visitor. Charlie is the first to speak, "Adam? Is that really you?"

"You remember me?" Adam asks with a big aw shucks grin as he walks toward the porch.

"Well, I haven't been held captive by all that many bounty hunters, so yeah I remember." She smiles tentatively and takes a step forward.

Bass is instantly at her side, placing a hand protectively on Charlie's arm. "I remember you too." He says with a frown.

Adam visibly wilts, "You again? Why are you here?"

"We live here, prick. Why are YOU here?"

"Just passing through. I was in town." He motions with his head toward the center of Willoughby, "heard someone say some Mathesons lived out this way." Adam shrugs, "Took a chance."

Charlie's eyebrow raises and her smile disappears. "I don't remember ever telling you my name."

Adam laughs, "Yeah, well I wasn't as stupid as you thought I was. I was listening while you two bickered in the pool. Besides, Monroe wasn't the only one with a bounty on him back then. I had done some asking around about the Mathesons. As soon as he called you Charlotte, it all clicked into place."

"Are you still hunting bounties?" Bass asks. He still has a hand on Charlie's arm. The other is caressing the hilt of his sword.

"No. Like I said, just passing through. Never thought I'd see you two again. Definitely never thought I'd see you together…"

"We are not together like that." Charlie says, shaking Monroe's hand from her arm. "My house was destroyed and some of my family had to leave town. Bass is letting me and my Grandpa stay with him for now. That's all."

Adam smirks, "So he's Bass now, huh? Back when you wanted him dead, it was all Monroe this and Monroe that."

"It's my name, asshole." Bass shoots the younger man a scowl. He doesn't think the bounty hunter's arrival is innocent at all. Something is wrong with this picture. Bass has always been good at reading people. This guy is trouble.

"So, where are you staying?" Charlie asks, ignoring Bass completely.

"Don't know yet. There were no rooms available at the boarding house, so I'll probably just camp out."

"Well, don't let us keep you." Bass says, his voice icy.

Charlie glowers at Bass before turning to Adam with a smile, "Well, you should join us for dinner tonight. I'm cooking."

Both men look surprised.

Bass steps closer to her, speaking softly, "We do not know this guy Charlie. We're better off if he moves on."

She ignores him completely and grins at Adam, "We'll eat at six. Don't be late."

XXXXXXXXXX

Connor and Jeremy are riding along a dirt road that runs parallel to an old highway. The day is clear and visibility is good. This stretch of ground is flat and bare. They'll see anyone coming long before they are a threat. Both men feel relaxed for the first time since being attacked.

"So, tell me about the Republic." Connor suggests, trying to sound bored, but secretly dying to learn all he can about his father's younger days.

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, you said you knew Matheson and Monroe. What were they like?"

"Miles was one of my best friends, but he was the toughest son of a bitch I've ever known in my life. He was a brutal fighter and had a knack for figuring out enemy strategies and how to defeat them. He was the kind of leader that nobody said no to. His men were loyal; of course they were also scared to death of him which might have been part of it. He was the obvious choice to run the militia….actually, he probably should have run the whole Republic."

"But?" Connor asks.

"He didn't want to. He convinced Bass to be the President. Miles didn't want anything to do with the politics part of it."

"Was Monroe a badass too?"

"Not at first. When I met them they were just wandering aimlessly. They helped people when they could - saved my life actually. Mostly I think they were trying to find a way to make a difference. Miles was a tough guy even then, but Bass was softer in the beginning. He was a man whore and a big drinker, and he was always smiling. Bass was charming and so politics was a good fit for him, or would have been. Anyway, in the beginning he was a fun guy to be around. Then things changed."

"How so?" Connor is riveted.

"He met this nice girl. They were inseparable. She got pregnant. They were both over the moon."

"Pregnant?" Connor asks, his mouth dropping open in shock.

"Yeah, but something went wrong. Shelly – that was her name – and the baby both died in childbirth. It was awful. It broke Bass…just destroyed him. He was never the same after that. He became someone else. It was a scary time."

"So Monroe changed?"

"Yeah. He became unhinged….very violent. Even Miles was worried. He was used to being the crazy one. Bass gave him a run for his money on that front for a while. Miles was able to calm him down eventually, but it took months. It was during that time that they started planning the Republic."

They ride in silence for a while. Eventually, Jeremy speaks again. "Miles and Monroe built the Republic with the best of intentions, you know? They wanted people to be safe. I know that sounds strange since I just told you they were both crazy and violent themselves at times. They knew they weren't perfect, but they also knew that people needed protection and safety. I'm not sure where it all went wrong, but the Republic that they started was a good thing. By the time Philly was blown off the map, it was different."

"What happened to you? You obviously weren't in Philly when it all ended. Were you with them at the Tower when the bombs dropped?"

Jeremy looks at Connor strangely, "I have no idea what the Tower is or who might have been there. When the nukes fell, I was on the run. Bass wanted me dead, but luckily the guys he ordered to carry out my execution trusted me more than they did him at the time. I ran from the city without even grabbing a change of clothes. I think I was somewhere in Minnesota when the bombs dropped." Jeremy stares off into the distance for a few moments. "I guess I owe Monroe my life, even though he wanted to end it. If he hadn't ordered his guards to shoot me, I would have still been there, doing my thing when the nukes fell." Baker laughed, "And then you would not have the pleasure of my company today."

Connor shakes his head with a smile. It's not hard to imagine this guy hanging out with his Dad and Miles. "Why did Monroe want you dead, anyway?" Connor asks.

"Bass never was himself again after Shelly died. He did okay for periods of time. He would be completely normal in fact, and then he would slip into this really dark place. That was especially a problem when Miles wasn't around or if he and Miles were fighting or whatever. Miles kept him sane…or at least as sane as Bass was capable of being. Miles got hurt and Bass reacted….zealously. Miles left not long after that. Said Monroe had crossed a line." Jeremy snorts. "Before that, nobody knew Miles had a line that could be crossed."

"So what happened when Miles left?"

"After Miles left, Monroe's dark place became a lot bigger…a lot darker. He became manic and paranoid. He thought I'd set him up to be shot." Jeremy pauses, catching Connor's eye. "This was not true, but Bass thought it was and he ordered my execution. I guess I'm just lucky he didn't decide to do it himself."

XXXXXXXXXX

Frank Blanchard is too old for this bullshit. He can't believe that Monroe has refused to come to the office. The old General is growly when he climbs up the steps to Bass's place. "Hey Doc." He says as he passes Gene who is sitting on the front porch in an old lawn chair.

"General." Gene responds with a nod. "Go on in, but just watch for flying objects. They're fighting."

"Who's fighting?"

"Monroe and Charlie. She invited someone over for dinner and he's not very happy about it."

"Well, I just have some paperwork he needs to sign. Shouldn't take but a minute." Then Frank lets himself in. He hears them right away.

"It's stupid and irresponsible, Charlie. He was going to sell me to the damn Patriots. He tied us up. He is not a good guy."

"I didn't think you were a good guy then either. You ended up being okay." Charlie yells back.

"I don't want him in my house." Bass growls.

Blanchard peeks around a corner in time to catch this last exchange, and he chuckles to see the mighty General Sebastian Monroe actually stomp his foot like a child.

"Well, I live here too, and I say he's coming to dinner!"

"Excuse me?" Frank asks from the sidelines.

Two pairs of icy blue eyes bore into him. "What?" they demand in unison.

Frank chuckles. The tension in this room is so thick; you could cut it with a butter knife. Suddenly, he's less irritated, and more amused. "I just have some papers for you to sign, and since you wouldn't come to my office…" he trails off.

Bass walks over and holds out his hand, "Give them to me."

Blanchard hands a stack over and Bass takes them to a table where a quill and ink pot is sitting. He signs quickly without even glancing at the documents, before thrusting them back into Blanchard's hands. Frank whistles, "No wonder you didn't do so well as a president. You're actually supposed to read that shit." Frank cackles as Bass glares at him.

"Is that all?" Monroe asks. When Blanchard nods, Bass turns and is yelling at Charlie again. "This is my damned house and I don't want you inviting guys over like that… especially guys who once held us hostage!"

"You told me to make myself at home. THIS is me making myself at home!" Charlie isn't backing down one bit.

Bass steps closer, "Oh my god, you like that guy! How can you like him?"

Charlie bristles, "Who do you think you are? You don't get any say in what guys I do or do not like."

Blanchard lets himself out quietly, and sits down on a lawn chair that is next to Gene's. "Whew! Well, you weren't wrong. They're really going at it."

Gene nods slowly, "Been like that for an hour…ever since the fella they're fighting about went into town to get some things he needed. He'll be back later. Should be an interesting night."

"Why are they fighting anyway? This guy really all that bad?"

"Don't know. Seemed friendly enough to me, but sounds like those two had a run in with him last year. They seem to have very different opinions of the guy, that's for sure."

Blanchard nods, "Yeah, I picked up on that."

Gene nods toward the house, "Truth is, I think maybe there's something there between those two, but neither of them would ever admit it. I'm pretty sure that's what they're really fighting about even if they don't know it yet."

"Charlie and Monroe? You think maybe they like each other?" Blanchard is surprised and Gene nods.

Frank shakes his head ruefully, "Not sure Miles would approve."

"Well, I'm not saying I approve either. I'm just…observing." The Doctor says with a frown. "You know, dinner should be pretty exciting tonight. Want to join us?"

Blanchard grins, "Well hell, why not?"

XXXXXXXXXX

The solitude starts to wear on Miles by nightfall. He sees some lights and heads into a dingy little town where he follows torches that light the way down the main street. He ties his horse to a post in front of a bar, and goes inside. Miles orders a plate of hash and a bottle of whiskey from a toothless bartender who doesn't want to chat. The place is mostly empty, and not at all the cure for loneliness he'd been hoping for. He eats in silence, leaving just a half hour after he had arrived.

Miles mounts his horse and rides out of town, sipping from the fresh bottle. He's been drinking all day and is already lit. The last couple hours he's started to dwell on things he'd rather forget. The memories come unbidden like a sick slideshow from a horror movie: blood and guts and burning bodies. Miles lifts his bottle again, taking a long pull.

Even drunk, he senses their presence well before they approach. He recognizes the two guys as customers in the bar he'd just left behind. The tall one demands Miles hand over his money. Miles grins, "Yeah, I don't think so." he says.

"Well, then I guess we're gonna just have to take it from you." The little one laughs.

"Not gonna happen." Miles says.

This makes the guy mad and he swings. Miles dismounts and lunges all in one fluid motion. Guy number one is staring down at Miles's blade buried in his chest before he can take another step. Blood gurgles at his mouth and he falls as Miles pulls the sword free and turns gracefully. The second man charges and Miles swings his sword with everything he's got, cleanly cutting off the thief's head. It falls with a dull thump into the dirt.

Miles stares down at the two corpses and frowns. "Shit. Maybe that was a little excessive." He runs a hand through his hair and frowns. Maybe it's time to lay off the booze just a bit. He checks their pockets and finds nothing worth taking. Mounting his horse once again, he gets back on the road. He needs to find a place to camp for the night.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bradbury, Idaho is a strange place. Part of the issue is of course, the lights. Even though they all remember what it was like to be surrounded by electricity, it is still jarring to see it after so many years of darkness.

Aaron and Peter are sitting at a low table in a corner of the underground compound. They are reviewing maps that Peter and Grace have hand drawn of Bradbury. Peter points out all the points of interest. They have identified safe houses, including the underground bunker. In addition, the map shows where the leaders spend most of their time, and where the zombies sleep at night. The two men talk quietly.

"So Peter, I don't want to seem ungrateful. We're really glad you guys are here and are willing to help us…"

"But?" Peter asks.

"The last time we saw you, you were cheering pretty hard for Team Nano." Aaron frowns, "What changed?"

Peter's shoulders slump, "Everything. Everything changed when Sophie came to me."

"Your sister?"

"Yeah, my sister who died while we were in college."

"It wasn't really her…"

"Yeah, I know that. I knew it right away. Some of the things she said to me made it clear that I'd been wrong. I knew then that the Nano wasn't any kind of god. It wasn't trying to help."

Aaron nods, "So, what did you do?"

"I told Sophie to go away and I started walking. I had no destination in mind, but eventually I ran into Grace. We've been traveling together ever since."

Grace, Priscilla and Rachel are brainstorming quietly on the other side of the room.

"So, we know that the Nano is targeting the bad guys and keeping a lot of them here." Priscilla frowns.

"And we know it is sending some of its bad guys out into the rest of the world in an effort to weaken anyone who resists." Grace adds.

But to what end?" Rachel asks. "What is the Nano hoping to accomplish here? Why is it doing any of this?""

"And why the hell did it put Tom Neville in charge?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Six o'clock rolls around and the guests start to arrive at Bass's house. Charlie acts as hostess, welcoming Adam who brings a bouquet of wild flowers and Blanchard who brings a big bottle of whiskey. She takes Frank to Gene. The two old guys settle in front of the fireplace with drinks – Blanchard is sipping a glass of the liquor he'd brought. Gene isn't yet feeling quite up to the hard stuff, and is sticking to tea. Both men have settled in as if to watch a show.

"You know what would make this even better?" Blanchard asks in a low whisper.

Gene nods knowingly, "Popcorn."

"Exactly." They laugh and settle into a companionable silence, waiting for the fun to begin. They don't have to wait long. Bass had been outside, but comes in with an arm full of wood for the stove so that Charlie can finish dinner.

"Where's Charlie?" he asks Gene.

"She took that Adam fella upstairs." He nods toward the staircase and watches with interest as Monroe grimaces. He's headed for the stairs when Charlie and Adam descend. They are laughing. Bass seethes. Gene and Frank exchange a knowing look.

Charlie walks past Monroe as if he isn't even there. Adam sits down at the table. Bass sits across from him. "Moving on soon?" Monroe asks.

Adam grins, "Nah, I think I might stick around for a while. I think Willoughby has proved to be very… welcoming."

"Then clearly we're doing something wrong." Bass mutters. "You're actually not welcome at all. Feel free to leave at any time."

Adam shakes his head, "I'll leave when she tells me to leave."

"You don't belong – " Bass starts.

Adam interrupts, "Here's the thing Monroe, she already gave me the tour. I know you and Charlie don't share a room. She's not your woman. She's your damn roommate." He leans back smugly, "So back off Roomie."

XXXXXXXXXX

Miles is very drunk. He had planned to stop drinking after he killed the wannabe muggers, but Miles is no quitter and he still had a half bottle to go at that point. The bottle is empty now.

He sees an open field and decides it's as good a place as any to lie down for the night. Dismounting, he stumbles for just a moment before collecting himself and setting out his bedroll. He plops down on his back, not even bothering to remove his boots or coat.

Miles stares at the stars and lets his mind wander. He remembers running around under the stars with Bass when they were kids. They would play hide and seek in the dark with the other children in the neighborhood. He remembers in high school when he and Bass had tp'd the baseball coach's house under a starry sky. Miles remembers making out with Emma on the hood of his old Dodge Dart under a canopy of darkness. He remembers sneaking away from a party at Ben's so that he could be with Rachel, even though he knew it was wrong. He remembers those early nights after the blackout when he realized for the first time in his life just exactly how bright the stars could shine. He remembers the first time he ever laid eyes on Nora. He'd watched her sleep in her prison cell, illuminated by the glow of the moon that shone through the small square window.

Then he remembers other things…the pools of blood that glistened in the starlight… the coppery taste of it on his lips and the smell of burning flesh all around him as he'd howled at the moon like a crazed wolf.

Baltimore.

That moon had been red. He shivers at the memory as he stares at the stars above.

XXXXXXXXXX

Connor and Jeremy have stopped to camp for the night. The night is growing darker all around them. They build a fire and are eating some roasted squirrel when Connor resumes their earlier discussion, "So Monroe went kind of crazy and Miles decided he'd gone too far. What did Monroe do to get that kind of reaction?"

"He had some kids killed. They were the children of the rebel who had tried to assassinate Monroe and Miles. Miles was hurt pretty badly in the attack.

"So what changed Matheson? What made him suddenly grow a conscience?"

"Oh, that's easy – now that I look back on all of it anyway. It was this woman Nora."

"Nora?"

"Yeah, she was beautiful and strong and talented. She was a crack shot and good with a bow, but her talent was in blowing things up. She was an artist when it came to bomb making. Miles met her for the first time the night before she was to be executed. We'd only ever caught her because one of her buddies bent under pressure."

"Pressure?" Connor asks, curious.

"Yeah." Jeremy chuckles, Someday I'll tell you about the Matheson/Strausser tag team interrogation method. Not once did it fail." Jeremy is still laughing, but the memory of the interrogations he's once witnessed sends a chill down his spine and he shudders. "Anyway, Nora was in our prison and Miles went to her to tell her she was going to hang for her crimes. But he took one look and fell for her. She fought her feelings for a while, but the truth was she fell for him pretty hard too. Soon she was freed and living with him. It was like Miles had flipped a switch. The funny thing to me was always the fact that supposedly Bass killing those Patriot kids was what Miles had a problem with. He sure as hell didn't seem to bother him to kill people of all ages in Baltimore…."

XXXXXXXXXX

The table in the dining room is long and narrow. Charlie seats her Grandpa and General Blanchard on the ends of the table. She and Adam settle down on one side. Bass sits on the other.

Charlie has made a thick rabbit stew which she is serving with soda bread and apples. It is a simple dinner, but everyone digs in.

Adam leans close to Charlie, "This is really good." He smiles at her and she smiles back.

"It's okay." Bass says, frowning into his third helping.

Gene and Blanchard are trying not to laugh around mouthfuls of the tasty stew. They exchange a glance over the table. Frank swallows and mouths the words, "Hey, this is fun."

Gene nods with a smirk, as if to reply, "Told you so."

They hear a female voice coming from the living room and Bass stands and goes to greet his guest. He returns moments later with Claire Donnegan. She is surprised to see her boss at the dinner table, but takes his appearance in stride. "Blanchard." She says with a nod.

"Hey Claire. Good to see you." Frank replies coolly. The truth is he doesn't care for her and he's pretty sure that she's aware of the fact. He watches as the latest arrival sits down next to Monroe. Bass pulls her chair close and wraps an arm around her shoulder. He kisses Claire lightly on the temple and she smiles up at him.

Blanchard and Gene both turn to see Charlie scowling, but she says nothing to Claire or Bass. Instead she turns to Adam, "So, did you ever find a place to stay?"

"Well, on my way back here after I went to the store in town, I did find a decent camping spot in an old park. I'll go there and settle in after we eat."

"That doesn't sound very nice at all." Charlie says. "I think you should stay here."

"What?" Bass asks, forgetting Claire for a moment. "No he should not stay here."

"I'd hate to impose." Adam speaks to Charlie only.

"It's no problem. I have the spare bedroom. Grandpa has been sleeping in the office on a cot. The couch is free and it's yours if you want it."

"Uh, NO. No it's NOT his if he wants it." Monroe bristles. "This is still my damned house, Charlotte!"

Claire looks at Bass strangely, "What's the problem? You do have a couch that nobody sleeps on."

Blanchard and Gene watch with big grins as Bass struggles to answer. Finally he gives up and stands. "Fine. Stay. Go. I don't care." Then he leaves the room. Claire follows him out.

Claire finds Bass outside on the porch, staring into space. "What was that all about?" she asks him.

"What?"

"That whole 'this is my damned house' business? Why can't Charlie have a friend over?"

He glares at her, "Please don't pretend you are on her side. We both know you two hate each other."

Claire shrugs, "Even so, I don't understand why this has you so worked up."

"I don't trust that guy. A lot of stuff is happening right now. Miles is gone and it's up to me to make sure Charlie is safe. That guy…I don't like him. He's up to something. I just need to figure it out." Bass is frowning, lost in thought.

"So, this isn't about you not wanting him near Charlie?"

"Well, honestly I don't want him around at all. But, yeah….Charlie could do a lot better. That guy is a tool."

She shrugs, "Looked to me like she likes him."

"He's not good enough for her. Miles would not approve."

"Sounds to me like you are the one who doesn't approve. For someone who claims not to have feelings for her, you sure are involved in her personal life."

"It's not like that, Claire."

Claire wonders if Bass can hear himself. She feels uneasy about all of this. The truth is she really likes him, but she is beginning to doubt he feels the same way. Suddenly tired, Claire makes a decision. "Thanks for the dinner invitation, but I'm not feeling very hungry. I'm going home."

"Okay." He says absently, placing a quick kiss on her lips before turning back to his house.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rachel and Grace are hiding inside a long abandoned bookstore. They are watching some activity on the street through broken window panes. "What is happening?" Rachel asks.

"I'm not sure. Since Neville showed up, things have been different but it looks like they're waiting for direction?" she suggests and then shrugs. Rachel can see from her expression that Grace is at a loss.

They both turn their attention back to the street. A group of twenty or so of the zombies are standing around, unmoving. Suddenly there is a commotion and Neville is here. The zombies bow slightly. There is a loud ringing sound that startles both Rachel and Grace, but they say nothing.

Slowly Neville reaches into his coat and pulls out a small rectangular object. He slowly lifts it to the side of his head as if he's in a dream or moving under water. In moments, he is speaking softly, his expression blank.

"Is that a cell phone?" Rachel asks, incredulous. "Why does he have a cell phone?"

"I'm a lot more worried about the other issue here." Grace whispers.

"What is that?"

"Phones only work if there are two…. So, who has the other one?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Miles had passed out at some point and now he wakes slowly, aware on some level that something about his surroundings feels off. He lifts his aching head, looking for a sign of what could be out there. The night is very dark. The stars, which had been so vivid before, now offer nothing more than a dull and eerie glow.

Miles can feel the storm that is brewing. The air is heavy with humidity and foreboding. His joints ache dully, reminding him of his age. He sits up slowly, glancing up when he hears someone approaching.

He's tired and achy and hung over, but even at his worst, Miles Matheson can move. Before the visitor is fully in view, Miles is standing with sword drawn. "Who's there?" he asks, his voice cold.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bass can't sleep. He tosses and turns, worrying about that asshole bounty hunter sleeping on his couch. When Bass had seen their visitor last, Charlie had been handing him a blanket and pillow before retiring to her room. "Good night Adam." She'd smiled at him as Bass had watched from a nearby doorway. Bass continued to watch Adam as Charlie left the room. The younger man couldn't tear his eyes off Charlie's ass.

"Don't even think about it." Bass had warned.

Now Bass wonders if he had been clear enough. What if that idiot has gone to Charlie's room? He did say she'd given him a tour, so he'd know where it is. "Damn it." Bass mutters as he pulls on some soft cotton pants and leaves his room. He stops short when he sees he's not alone in the hallway.

"Charlie? Where are you going?" Bass frowns at her. She's mostly in shadow but he can see she's wearing a tee shirt that reaches to the tops of her thighs, and very little else. Her legs look impossibly long in the moonlight that pours through the window.

"I was going to check on Adam…make sure he's okay."

"Not dressed like that, you're not." Bass crosses his arms over his bare chest.

Charlie tries to brush past but he stops her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Listen, I know you think you like him or whatever, but we don't know him. We don't know what he wants or why he's here. I promised Miles I'd watch out for you."

"Yeah, but you don't have to. I can take care of myself."

"I am aware of that Charlie. It doesn't mean that I'm not going to try to keep you safe if I think there could be danger around. I don't like him and I'm worried about his motives…about why he showed up now." Bass shakes his head, "I think there's something he's not telling us….maybe something he has planned that won't be good for us…for you."

"I think he's harmless." Charlie bites her lip, "And it's been nice to have someone who talks to me like he does….like he sees me."

"We talk to you all the time." Bass says, not understanding.

"Yeah, you do. It's different, that's all." She can't meet his eyes.

Bass runs a hand through his hair, not really sure what this is all about, but feeling uncomfortable suddenly. "Well, he doesn't need to see you half naked like that unless I'm coming with you to make sure he keeps his distance." There is warning in his tone.

She laughs and shakes her head. "That's not necessary." She pauses for a moment before continuing, "I'm sorry I invited him without listening to you when you told me no. I shouldn't have done that."

"Hey, it's okay. We'll figure it out, but this was a one night thing Charlie. He can't move in."

She grins at him then, "Yeah, I know. And thanks for looking out for me. I don't think you need to, but I guess it's nice of you to worry or whatever." She pauses, biting her lip, "Listen, I know I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, but I just get tired of everyone treating me like I'm a little girl."

Bass glances down at the vee of her tee shirt. Its point lies enticingly between the generous curves of her breasts. "I don't think you are a little girl." He says, then he moves his hand from her shoulder to her arm, "Hey, are you wearing my shirt?"

"Yeah." Charlie looks embarrassed. "I forgot to bring pajamas when we moved in here, and I found this in a drawer. Is it okay?"

Bass finds it hard to speak for some reason. Must be the humidity. "Yeah, it's fine. Just do me a favor."

"Yeah?"

"Go back to bed."

Charlie nods, "Okay."

"And Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"If you decide to come out of your room again, wear some damn pants." Their eyes lock for a moment and then Charlie smiles before turning to her room. Bass returns to his own room only after he sees Charlie close her door quietly as she disappears inside.

XXXXXXXXXX

Connor and Jeremy are both lying in their sleeping bags, not far from the dying camp fire. Connor knows he should sleep but his mind is buzzing with all the information he's learned today from Jeremy. He can tell from his companion's breathing that Jeremy isn't asleep yet either. "Hey Baker?"

"Yeah?"

"You said you'd seen some other people like Neville? Some folks who weren't themselves….what did you mean?"

Jeremy sighs, "Before I made my way south I spent a few months in the Plains Nation, just kind of wandering. I keep looking for some place to settle, but nowhere ever feels right. Anyway, I was in this city called New Lincoln. I was drinking with some guys in a bar and this man walked in. This man was really upset because he said he'd just been outside talking to his wife. I figured the upset guy was just drunk."

"But he wasn't?" Connor asks.

"Hell, I don't actually know. It didn't even sound like a problem to me, but one of the guys at my table got spooked. He said that guy's wife had been dead for over a decade. I heard a similar story maybe a week later. I got back on the road after that and started heading south. I began to ask around. It's happening everywhere and seems to be more prevalent all the time. I don't know what's causing it, but it scares the crap out of me, and buddy…I don't scare easy."

"Neville talked to someone a lot. I think it was his dead son. I'm not sure…"

"Weird shit like this really makes me miss my friends from the Republic." Jeremy adds. "Even if we didn't part on the best terms, those guys were my family. We always had each other's back."

"Except when one of them wanted to kill you?" Connor asks, trying to lighten the mood.

"Bass didn't mean any of it. I bet he was pretty damn upset if he ever found out I didn't do the stuff he thought I did. No, none of that matters. No matter what enemy we faced, as long as we stuck together we were unbeatable."

"So Matheson and Monroe? Were there others you miss?"

"Well, The only ones that mattered were Monroe and Matheson. There was this guy Strausser who was fun to party with but he was a guy you didn't want on your bad side and I never did trust him to have my back. Your buddy Neville was usually around, but we didn't care for him even then. No it was always Miles and Bass. I miss those guys. They'd know what to do, and even if they didn't…they'd come up with a plan. They always came up with the best plans."

Connor frowns into the darkness, "So there's this thing I probably need to tell you about my Dad…"

XXXXXXXXXX

Peter, Aaron, Priscilla, Grace and Rachel watch from the shadows as the lights begin to flicker on Main Street in Bradbury. The night is full dark, and in a normal town, everyone would be home asleep. Not here. Up and down the street are lines of zombified people. They had started arriving over an hour ago and had stood perfectly still in neat rows for some time, each and every one staring into space.

"It's like they're waiting for something…" Priscilla said.

Then the lights flickered wildly and everything went black. Grace gasped. Suddenly the lights came back full force and the street was bathed in an unnatural golden glow. At exactly the same moment, every one of the hundreds of people in the street began to speak.

Each and every one of them was having an animated conversation…with someone who wasn't actually there.

Aaron feels a shiver of dread, "I kind of hate this place." He says.

XXXXXXXXXX

Miles stands tall with his sword at the ready. He faces the woods head on as the footsteps grow closer. The night is still dark, but his eyes have adjusted somewhat…even so, he blinks hard, sure that what he's seeing is a trick of his imagination. He opens his eyes again and falters. Trick or not, she looks real. She looks real enough that he thinks he could reach right out and touch her. Miles takes in a ragged breath as a cold chill slides down his spine. "Nora?"

* * *

><p>AN Chapter title comes from the novel "Pet Semetary" by Stephen King.

The next chapter will be written by IceonFire7 and will be available in a week or so.


	6. Dazed and Confused

"Monsters are real. Ghosts are too. They live inside of us, and sometimes, they win."

― _Stephen King, The Shining_

* * *

><p>Now I know you won't refuse<p>

Because we've got so much to do

And you've got nothing more to lose

So take this number and welcome to

Operation: Mindcrime – _Operation: Mindcrime - Queensryche  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: Dazed and Confused (IceonFire7)<strong>

"Who?" Connor had never seen Jeremy look so serious. "Your father is who?"

"Sebastian Monroe."

Suddenly, a loud chuckle escaped Jeremy. "Yeah, nice joke, kid."

"I'm not joking. Sebastian Monroe is my father." His face must have appeared serious enough for Jeremy to start believing because he visibly paled.

"I thought you said your father lived in Mexico. Monroe is dead."

"No, he's not dead." How in the world was he supposed to explain all this in just a few minutes? "They, uh, faked his death."

"Texas faked his death?"

"No, the Mathesons did."

"Bass and Miles are..." Jeremy trailed off, a distant look on his face. He recovered quickly. "Bass and Miles are together again."

Connor snorted. He doubted Jeremy had any idea of exactly how that sounded. "Yeah, they, uh, kissed and made up."

Baker's eyes narrowed at him. "So Bass is in Mexico?"

"No, he's in Texas. That was my stepfather...in Mexico. Monroe is my real father. Emma Bennett was my mother." Could his family tree be any more complicated?

"You're Emma's kid?"

"You knew my mother?"

"I was there when she died." He stood, stepping away from their sleeping bags and the fire.

"You mean when my father got her killed," Connor muttered.

Jeremy whipped around to face him. "Your father...may have indirectly got her killed."

Connor tossed off his covers and jumped up. "He pulled her into a firefight. He told me himself."

"Yeah, he did do that." Jeremy's eyes softened, as if he knew this topic was sensitive and could hurt him. Connor found himself really liking the guy. "But I'll tell you something, kid. He never really meant for that to happen. Everything got so out of control. He just wanted to get under Miles's skin. But when that bullet hit, they both fell, your mother in Bass's arms. He was shot too, but I could barely pull him away from her. Bullets were flying all over the place. The president of the republic could have died at any moment, and he didn't want to leave her side."

Connor found himself drawn into the story; Baker's voice was so serious, so sincere. He wanted to believe that his father really did love his mother, at least once upon a time. His father had insisted in New Vegas that he had, but Connor wasn't sure he trusted Monroe, not after everything that had happened. To hear it from another source, that his father had refused to leave her behind and had to be yanked away...it made him feel the slightest bit better. And he never knew his father had been wounded too.

"Connor, I want you to take me to Bass."

Jeremy's voice pulled him out of his reverie. "What?"

"I need to see him. And Miles." Baker crawled back into his sleeping bag. "First thing in the morning, we head for whatever part of Texas they're in. Got it?"

Something about the urgency of Jeremy's voice had him automatically agreeing. "Alright."

"And I want to know everything on the way. About Bass. About the execution...how they conned Texas. About Miles." Jeremy studied him for a minute. "I should have seen it. You fight like them. You must have picked up some of their style along the way."

"I guess."

"This is important, Connor. If Bass and Miles are back, we're going to need them."

"Why?"

"Cause if things get as bad as I suspect they might, those are the two men I want leading the battle."

* * *

><p>The abandoned bookstore's second floor had become something of a hub for Team Matheson to keep watch on the center of town. Aaron had taken to calling them that for lack of a better nickname for their small group.<p>

"Wait," Grace said, leaning closer to the broken window. "Something's happening."

As quickly as the incessant talking started, it ceased. The crowd fell silent, and Tom Neville stepped up to the front of the haphazard stage.

"My friends, we have reached a new phase in our operation." Aaron had always found Tom Neville creepy. As if the man had been devoid of human emotion. He'd been wrong; the human version of Neville had, at the very least, rage and anger inside him. This was a being completely without emotion. "As you know, the attempt to control the humans, as we did the rats, did not prove successful. Unlike the small minded rodents, human brains are far too complex to fall in line so easily. Only a certain type of human is manageable. Those alone, insane, on the fringes of society."

"Oh, my God," Rachel said, exchanging a look with Grace.

"What? Care to share with the rest of the class?" Aaron asked.

"They're targeting bad guys, Aaron, because those are the minds they can control," Grace explained, making him feel like the biggest dolt for not realizing that immediately.

Suddenly, things started falling into place. "So Priscilla and I both broke away because..."

"Because you had something to live for," Rachel finished. "You said you overcame the Nano because you refused to accept the perfect little world they'd made for you. Why didn't you buy in?"

"Because you guys were out here." It all clicked. He turned to look at his ex-wife. "And Priscilla broke away-"

"Because you brought me out of it," Priscilla said. "I heard your voice inside my head."

"So anyone with ties to the world, with someone to love or care about, with friends, the Nano was unable to control indefinitely," Peter said. "They kept waking up?"

"That's what it sounds like to me," Rachel said. "The rat room failed on humans."

Neville's voice reached up to them again. "Considering our deficiency in this area, we have concluded that the human experiment cannot proceed as previously planned. Which is why our new strategy is now commencing."

"Well, that should be horrifying," Aaron muttered, his eyes never wavering from Neville.

"It has been decided that termination is the only applicable solution for the uncontrollable. It is the most logical method to correct the problem and should eradicate the obstacles we now face."

"Did he just say termination?" Peter asked.

"That's why they're building the army," Priscilla said. "They're going to kill any human who doesn't fall under their command."

"An army of killers, murderers, rapists, and thieves," Aaron said, rubbing his hand over his face. "And a whole bunch of psychotics for good measure. Should be easy."

"They'll slaughter thousands, maybe more." Grace shook her head. "And all in the name of bringing peace to the human race."

"It's not murder," Rachel said, and all eyes turned to her. "Not to them. It's just a logical conclusion. The best way to solve the problem."

"Jesus, this is all my fault," Peter said. "I should have allowed you to install a virus on them back in Lubbock."

"You didn't know, Peter. You were as taken in as everyone else." Aaron rested a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Neville's talking again," Grace said, everyone returning their attention to the front of the ice cream shop.

"We are currently building up our forces until we will be strong enough to defeat this enemy. But every mighty infantry requires an even stronger commander. And we now have within our grasp one of the finest generals to ever exist." Neville raised his arms skyward, the grin on his face as wide as the one on the creepy clown behind him. "The general of the Monroe Republic himself, who led the militia into many battles."

"Bass? They're going after-" Aaron's response died on his lips the minute he saw Rachel's face. "What is it?"

Her eyes shimmered with tears, making them appear huge and extremely blue. "It's not Bass."

"What?" Grace asked.

"The only time Bass led the militia into battle was with Georgia. All the other big battles had been fought and won by the time he took over as General." Her usually strong voice sounded so small.

"Rachel, are you saying..." Aaron couldn't even complete the sentence.

"Miles...they're after Miles."

"No, wait, he should be alright." Priscilla patted Rachel's arm, offering a small smile. "He's with his family."

"Yeah, Rachel, that's right." Aaron breathed a sigh of relief. "He's with Charlie and Bass. Those two won't let anything get to him. He's not alone."

* * *

><p>"Hello, Miles."<p>

God, she was beautiful. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten how stunning she really was. He truly loved Rachel, with all of his heart, but he loved Nora too.

But this was not Nora. "Go away."

"Is that what you really want?" She cocked an eyebrow. An expression he knew so very well. "Do you really want me gone?"

Of course not. He wished every day that she hadn't died in that God forsaken tower. "You're not her. I'm not falling for this."

"Of course not, Miles. You're so much smarter than that."

It was her voice. So much like her voice. "Stop it. You are not her."

"But I look like her...I sound like her." The thing wouldn't stop; it circled him, walking around his campsite. "How much do you wish I was her?"

More than he could ever say. He still blamed himself for Nora; if he'd just been there faster. He'd been wasting time arguing with Bass. But the truth was he couldn't even blame Bass. There was no one to blame...except...

"Rachel," the Nora thing said. "Go ahead, Miles, you can blame Rachel for my death."

Miles shook his head, backing away. "No, no...I-I don't blame her."

"Of course you do."

"No! She was doing what she felt was necessary."

"Leaving me bleeding out on the floor. So she could unleash bombs on the east coast." Nora smiled, but it was hard, cold, cruel. It was nothing like her real smile, beautiful and warm.

"Rachel didn't do that...it was all Flynn."

"Oh come on, Miles." Nora crouched by the fire, the light playing across her face casting an evil glow upon her skin. "Even Charlie blames Rachel for losing me."

"No..." He collapsed on his bedroll. He was too tired for this. It was too much.

"Yes, she does." She stood, sauntering over to him, like a jungle cat stalking its prey. "Rachel certainly got in between us, didn't she? She always did. You would have never stopped loving her, Miles."

Miles stared at her. Everything inside of him hurt. "I loved you too."

"Did you really?" It was a taunt. "Sometimes I think the only thing you ever loved was Rachel. Well...her and Bass."

He would not apologize for his brother. Not anymore. "Stop it. Leave them both out of this."

"Miles." She knelt beside him. "We don't want to hurt you. We want your help. Join us."

"Join you?" He steeled his face. This wasn't Nora. "Never."

"There's no use in resisting now, Miles. You've never been very good at turning away...not from any sort of temptation. You just see want you want and you take it. Whether it's conquering a woman or a country. Isn't that right...Butcher?"

He didn't want to think about that night...but she was right; he couldn't resist. Not when the Nano was there to show it all to him again anyway. It was like a movie playing out in front of him. "Don't..."

"Don't you remember, Miles? The screaming, the crying. Broken glass, terror everywhere. The blood running in the streets from all those people you slaughtered."

"Bass and I wanted..."

"No...no, no. Don't blame him. Bass loved you. He would have followed you into anything. He would have walked right into hell for you. And he'd lost so much by that point. He became the president because you wanted him to take it. Because you wanted to be in charge of the militia, not the politics." Miles shook his head; he didn't want to hear this. Hear the truth. "You went into Baltimore because **you** wanted those weapons. You heard about the cache of guns, ammo, artillery that was being brought up into Baltimore from Annapolis, from the Naval Academy."

"I didn't-"

"The republic was brand new, and you wanted to have all that firepower at your fingertips. For you and those you designated as worthy. And it didn't matter to you, Miles." She leaned into him, her face inches from his. The only part of her that didn't feel real was her smell; she didn't smell like Nora. "You killed anyone who got in your way. By the end of the battle, you were nothing but an animal."

He was losing it. Miles hunkered down, holding his head in his hands. "I just wanted-"

"But you won, Miles. You took all those weapons back home to your new president. The same man you dragged down into the pit with you. You all like to blame Bass for all of your issues, but the truth is you did this to him, not the other way around. You were Dr. Frankenstein, Miles. Bass was simply the monster that you made." He could feel breath on his ear as she whispered into it. But that was impossible; she wasn't real. It had to be the wind. "And then you and your monster made guns illegal for everyone, except loyal militia. By penalty of death. Because you didn't want to lose the one edge you'd gained, all while reducing an entire city to ashes."

Miles's eyes slammed shut, a whimper escaping him. It was true, all of it was true. He had destroyed Bass and Ben, even Rachel, who he loved so much. He'd tortured her...and then had the gall to be mad at Bass for keeping her hostage after he'd left. But he'd thought her dead. He'd left her behind. And Nora, he'd dragged her into all of it too and then left her as well. He put everything in motion and then let the pieces fall where they might. He'd screwed up all the good things in his life. All of them.

Except Charlie.

Charlie. Her face suddenly floated in his mind's eye. One little slip of a girl had wandered into his dive in Chicago and started to change his life. She gave him a chance to prove he wasn't a waste of time or space. She gave him a purpose, a goal...a second chance. Few people had that ability, to help others change their lives, but Charlie did. She'd done it for him. And he'd watched as she'd started doing the same thing for Bass, right before his eyes. A Matheson had destroyed Sebastian Monroe, but it was a Matheson that would save him as well.

Charlie gave him the strength he needed. He opened his eyes and looked directly at the Nano version of Nora. "You're not her. And I'm not falling for this. You're right. I've done all of those things you accused me of. I destroy things, it's what I do. So what makes you think I won't destroy you, you electronic pieces of shit?"

The Nano cocked an eyebrow, still looking so much like the woman he'd once loved. Suddenly, she smiled. "Get some sleep, Miles. We'll talk again."

And just like that, she was gone.

He fell back onto his sleeping bag, breathing heavily, eyes fixed on the stars over his head. He'd fought them off for now, but if they tried again...God, he just didn't know how much fight he had left in him.

* * *

><p>"Alright, is that the last of it?" Bass asked. It was getting hard to hide his disgust from Blanchard. Their days were starting to go longer and longer and it was beginning to get on his last nerve. He'd had enough of being behind the desk to last for the rest of his life. He was a soldier, a fighter; he belonged in the field.<p>

"Yes, Monroe," Blanchard said, humor in his voice. Bass suspected he liked keeping him late. The idiot seemed to think making his life a pain was funny. "Just sign those last couple of pages and we're good to go for the night."

"Thank God. All I do is sign stuff. The entire republic didn't need my signature this much."

"Maybe that's why it fell apart..." Bass rolled his eyes when Blanchard let out a huge belly laugh.

"Dick." Bass finished the papers, tossing them back to Blanchard, then hopping up from his desk to grab his jacket. "Gotta go."

"Hot date, Monroe. With the head of my Rangers?" Frank never failed to ride him about that.

"Actually, I'm not seeing Claire, tonight." He slid on his leather jacket. "But thanks for the concern, Frank."

"Hey, listen, don't forget we talked about that one point on those peace treaties. You think about it tonight, eh?"

Bass nodded. The idea to give specific plots of land to each clan seemed like a good idea, but some were so used to their nomadic ways, he didn't think it would fly with all of them. "Yeah, having dinner with Charlie. We'll talk it over."

Blanchard stared at him for a minute, a strange look on his face. "You know, Gene's meeting me for dinner at the bar."

"Yeah, I'm aware. We all know that you and the old man are turning into good pals."

"You get old, you need all the friends you can get." Blanchard leaned back in his chair. "Just saying, with Miles gone and Gene out of the house, it's just the two of you for dinner."

Bass raised an eyebrow. "It's the two of us for dinner a lot of nights. What?"

"Well, I just thought she was seeing that Adam fellow."

Bass sighed. He was so sick of this topic and people questioning his relationship with Charlie. But he was even more fed up with the entire Adam and Charlie thing. "Charlie is my friend. We're having a friendly dinner. And she's not seeing Adam. They just hang out sometimes."

"And you trust him?"

"Not even a little." He was still annoyed that Charlie spent any time with the jerk at all. "But no one tells Charlie Matheson what she can and can't do."

"Is that a direct quote?" Blanchard asked.

"Word for word." She'd read him the riot act over the whole thing with Adam. After her apology for letting the bounty hunter stay overnight, against Bass's will, she'd told him in no uncertain terms that she appreciated him looking out for her, but she would do what she wanted when she wanted.

Blanchard chuckled. "I like that girl."

"Yeah, she's a piece of work." He smiled when he thought of how fired up she always got when she was angry. "But she's got a lot of good sense about her."

"Which is why you ask her advice."

"Yeah, a lot of her ideas are really clever. Girl certainly knows how to be a diplomat, I'll tell you that. She's probably better at running a country than I ever was." Both men laughed. "But it helps to talk it out with her. She helps me see things I might have missed otherwise."

Blanchard studied him for a moment. "Monroe, you ever think maybe the reason things are such a struggle with you and Claire is...she's not the right woman for you?"

That was unexpected, coming from Blanchard. Usually the guy just gave him trouble and then let the whole topic of Claire Donegan drop for a while. Bass really didn't know what to say. "I-we have fun."

"You know, when I see you, after you've spent time with General Donegan, you're always on edge. Testy. Kind of like that Monroe I remember in charge of that republic." Bass shook his head, but Blanchard went on anyway. "But when you have dinner with Charlie, you come in the next morning relaxed. Laidback. The man who snuck into my bedroom and whipped me with my own crop."

"Oh, Jesus, Frank. I work really hard to forget about that, okay. Talk about burning out my eyeballs."

Blanchard smirked. "All I'm saying is that man knew how to laugh. He was having fun. I don't ever remember seeing that when you were in charge of the Monroe Republic. But I see it after you spend an evening with Charlie Matheson."

Bass swiped a hand down his face. "Alright, that's it. I'm out of here. You're crazy, Frank. We're friends. She's half my age. She's my best friend's niece. There is nothing between Charlie and me."

Blanchard held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Just playing devil's advocate here. Just stating facts."

"Night, Frank." Bass swept out the back door before the old codger could say anything else.

It was ludicrous to believe there was anything going on with Charlie. He relied on her friendship and her advice. She was always there in his corner, had been almost from the day she'd picked him up outside of New Vegas. He would never do anything to jeopardize her or to ruin what they had. She just...meant a lot to him. In a strictly friendly capacity.

* * *

><p>Gene popped his head in the door. "Hey, Frank, you about ready to go?"<p>

"Sure thing." He stood, snatching his hat off the hook and slipping his arms into his jacket.

"Was that Monroe I just heard you arguing with?"

"We weren't arguing." He ushered Gene out the door and towards the steps. "I was just inquiring about his dinner for tonight. With your granddaughter."

"Oh, she's been cooking most of the afternoon."

"Like special cooking?" Blanchard looked at Gene. "Like for a date?"

"Well, she said it was just her and Bass. And that she wanted to try a few new recipes."

Their eyes met, and they broke out into hysterical laughter. "Those poor fools. They have no idea, do they?"

Gene wiped a few tears away from his eyes. "I don't know. I'm starting to think Charlie is getting a clue."

"Care to share?" Blanchard asked.

"It seems she's realizing she's not really interested in Adam. But it sort of drives Monroe crazy, so she keeps seeing him."

"So, how long do you think this is going to take?" Blanchard asked, entering the bar and heading to their usual table.

"With those two stubborn mules, a few months at least."

"That long? I think Monroe's going to realize how unhappy he is with Donegan sooner than that. I say a few weeks."

"Is that a bet you're proposing?" Gene asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"So it is, my friend." Blanchard signaled the waitress to bring over their drinks. "How much you in for?"

* * *

><p>As soon as Bass entered the house, the heavenly aroma of something baking hit him like a ton of bricks. His house smelled like home. Like his home in Jasper, the one he'd grown up in. The one his mother had prepared meals in.<p>

Dropping his jacket on the couch, he walked into the kitchen, determined to find where those delicious scents were coming from. "Charlie?"

"Hey." She popped up from behind his counter. "You're home."

"Yeah, and I'm now dying of hunger. What is that amazing smell?"

"They got some chocolate in at the general store." She smiled at him, and he grinned right back. Charlie had such an infectious smile. "I made chocolate chip cookies. I haven't had them in forever, and last time I made them, Maggie helped me, so I hope they turn out okay."

This home, like many others, had been installed with a wood-burning stove after the Blackout. The lack of electricity, and the end of microwave ovens, had caused many people to re-learn the art of cooking and baking. He often wondered what his own mother would have thought of cooking this way. But Charlie had only been a little girl when they lost the power; this was all she knew. And she was damn good at it too. "Charlie, if they're in chunks and pieces, I'll eat them. They smell out of this world."

"Let's hope they taste that way." She pulled a bowl of salad off the counter, handing it to him. "Take this to the table, would you? And grab the whiskey. I got a few bottles from the bar today."

He followed her instructions, pouring a few fingers of the amber liquor into glasses for each of them. She set a bowl of mashed potatoes and a bowl of green beans on the table, then returned to the kitchen to grab the main course. "I tried a few new spices on the chicken."

"I'm sure it will be great." He pulled her chair out for her, waiting until she was settled before taking his own seat. "Where'd you get the idea to try something different?"

"I was cleaning out your attic." His eyes shot up. "You've got a mess up there, you know."

He chuckled. "I assume the old occupants of the house left it. I haven't been up there at all."

"Well, anyway, I found a few old cookbooks. Thought I'd give a new recipe a try." He felt her staring at him as he loaded his plate. Meeting her eyes, he bit into his chicken, determined to give her a thumbs up regardless of the taste. One bite and his eyes rolled back in his head; it was fabulous. "Charlie, this is phenomenal. Seriously."

Her smile lit up the room. And she let out the deep breath she'd been holding. "Glad you like it."

"You were worried?"

"I would have hated to ruin dinner. Then you would have had to take me out." She filled her plate and took a bite. "This came out better than I thought. Miles would approve."

He sighed. "I miss Miles."

"So do I."

"Hell, I even miss Stay-Puft."

Charlie chuckled. "Bass, stop calling him that."

He grinned at her. "You know who I don't particularly miss..."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "My mother."

"Got it in one." He clicked his fingers.

"You know, I love her, but...I miss her less than I probably should." Their eyes met and both laughed. "So how was work?"

"You know, the same. Blanchard's not happy unless he's making me miserable."

"Bass, he's not trying to make you miserable. There's just a lot to do." She nibbled on a piece of chicken. "Although, you have been getting home later all the time."

"I'm going to start dragging you to the office, Charlie." She laughed. "I'm not kidding. I could use your help. He's got so much going on all the time. I swear we didn't do this much in the republic."

"I'm always willing to help you, Bass. You know that."

"Yeah, I do." He looked at her sheepishly. "Which...I have another favor to ask. I brought a little work home again."

She helped herself to another serving of potatoes. Charlie knew how to eat, but where she put it all on that tiny little frame, he would never know. "What's up?"

"Blanchard had this idea to offer specific plots of land to each of the clans. That way, they would have a place to settle and have the protection of Texas." He took another bite of chicken. Damn, she was a good cook. "My concern is that some of the clans are too nomadic for it to work. What do you think?"

She was silent for a few minutes. He now knew she was mulling it over in that brilliant mind of hers. Why that initially surprised him, he hadn't a clue. After all, she was the child of two of the most intelligent people he'd ever met. "I understand your concern, Bass. But maybe Frank should add a codicil to the treaty. Offer the land to all of them, but don't enforce it as a rule. Those who want it have the access they need. Those who don't will still be able to move around at will."

He nodded. "Yeah, Charlie, that's not a bad idea. But if a traveling clan moves onto the land of a sedimentary clan, we could have an all-out war."

"Not if the traveling clans have to pay a fee to stay on the land." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Look, most clans, when they move, stay on free property, where no one owns a thing. They try to avoid landowners. Why would this be any different?"

That actually made a lot of sense. "Good point."

"I mean, you could still run into trouble. Some of these war clans are actually in it for the war. But I suspect Texas is going to have trouble from that kind anyway." She stood, gathering the dishes from the table. "But maybe if they have their own land, some will settle down. I think a lot of the clans just want a place to feel safe. If Texas is protecting them and their assets, just like any other citizen of the republic, they may feel far more inclined to ingratiate themselves into society."

Hand covering the huge smile on his face, he stared at her as she set the food on the kitchen counter. She truly was a far better politician than he had ever been. Charlotte Matheson had become one hell of a woman.

Turning with a plate of cookies in her hand, she caught his eye. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, pulling his hand away from his face. "Just in awe of you a little bit, Charlie. I **am** dragging you to work from now on."

She chuckled and set the cookies in front of him. "Yeah, well, reserve judgment of that awe until you taste one of these. They may suck."

"Doubt it." Taking a bite, he groaned. He hadn't had a chocolate chip cookie in years. Not since before the Blackout he imagined. In the republic, he'd had chefs preparing any number of fancy desserts, and still these were better than anything he'd eaten in Philly. "Charlie, these are..."

"Not bad? Decent?" she supplied.

He supposed orgasmic was the actual word he was looking for, but he felt oddly weird using it in her presence. He wasn't sure why; Charlie was far from a prude. But somehow, with her it felt too...intimate. "Pretty damn good."

She smiled, snatching up one for herself. "Not too bad."

He matched her smile, grabbing another cookie and stuffing it in his mouth. "Thanks for dinner, Charlie. And for your help too."

"Anytime, Bass. Anytime."

* * *

><p>Bass had long since retired before Charlie cleaned up the rest of the kitchen. He'd offered to help, but she insisted he head up to bed. He'd been working such long hours, and with her complete lack of a job, she felt that keeping the house tidy was the least she could do. Her grandfather had also arrived home and retired for the night, after sneaking a cookie or two and making her swear never to tell her mother.<p>

She wondered if Bass was serious about taking her along to work. She found herself slightly giddy at the prospect. Not just because it would mean getting a break from having nothing but housework to do, but because she would be working with Bass again. Charlie honestly enjoyed their brainstorming sessions, almost as much as she enjoyed fighting by his side. Actually, at this point in time, she was almost more comfortable with Bass as her fighting partner than Miles. Imagine that.

She grabbed another cookie to go with her hot tea and headed out onto the front porch for a little fresh air. Her mind wandered right back to Bass. It was becoming a frequent thing for her. Thinking about Bass. He asked her advice quite a bit now, and she found herself happy whenever he did. It was like he trusted her, which she supposed was nice; she'd been trusting him, more or less, for the past year.

Staring up at the stars, she wondered how Miles was; how her mother, Aaron, and Priscilla were; and then right back to Bass. She was still seeing Adam, but it was growing painfully obvious to her that he was nothing more than a friend. They weren't even physical; although she sort of got the impression that was her choice, not his. But she never cherished the time spent with Adam the way she did the time spent with Bass. Compared to Sebastian Monroe, he just seemed so...pale.

And she found herself liking Claire Donegan less and less all the time. She'd finally come to grips with not making the Rangers, so Charlie suspected her growing animosity wasn't really about Claire denying her access to the program. Some sinking part of Charlie began to wonder if it was nothing more than full-fledged jealousy. Claire had Bass. And it was starting to bug the hell out of Charlie.

Jesus, how did this happen to her? How had Bass Monroe become the brightest part of her life?

* * *

><p>In a spacious office, in a city hundreds of miles away from Bradbury, Idaho, a small cell phone rang, breaking the silence of the night. Amid a sea of candles, a woman behind a large desk read through paper after paper of unavoidable work. As soon as the ringtone filled the air, she reached for the phone, happy for the distraction and anxious for some new information.<p>

"Tom...how are things in Idaho?" Fingering the small silver teardrop pendant hanging around her neck, she chuckled at his monotone response. "That's good. Tell me the most recent news. And Tom...don't leave out a thing."

* * *

><p>AN: Please leave a comment if you have a moment. Chapter 7 by lostinmysticfalls will be up in about a week or so.

Credit: Chapter title from Led Zeppelin.


	7. No Man Is An Island

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?

No one will ever change this animal I have become

Help me believe it's not the real me

Somebody help me tame this animal

-Three Days Grace

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: No Man Is An Island<strong> (by LostInMysticFalls)

The ripples in the water made Miles's face look distorted, like a ruined oil painting on a clear blue canvas. He stared at his reflection, the dark circles and bags under his eyes were distinctly marked, bloodshot eyes looking back at him. Even in moments of complete solitude he could still hear Nora's voice, sweet and melodic as she spoke about their past romance and the mischief they'd gotten themselves into when they were both part of the Monroe Militia.

The night before had left him sleepless and restless. He practically had to scream off the top of his lungs for her to go away. She was becoming more resilient with every visit, knowing that eventually, she would break him. As he'd made his journey closer to Bradbury, calculating that now he was only a few hours worth of travel time away, she'd shown up every night, just like clockwork. Miles dreaded the setting of the sun, his mind weakening further by her constant badgering.

With hands cupped, he splashed his face once again with water. All he wanted was to get to his friends—his family. Miles told himself that being with them would put an end to the nano's haunting but every time he thought about it, his stomach churned and tightened, as if deep down he knew it wasn't that easy of a fix. He wiped the water away from his eyes, jolting back in horror as he caught sight of Nora's reflection on the pond's surface.

"For God's sake Miles, you look like you've seen a ghost. Oh, wait..." She smiled deviously, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Miles glanced up at her, finally regaining some control and pushing himself off from his knelt position. He dusted the dirt off his pants, looking at her from head to toe. There was something different about her this time. She no longer looked like the girl she'd last seen fighting alongside the rebels. No. This Nora was different.

Her hair was loosely braided, long legs covered in blue cargo pants with a grayish blue jacket draped over her slim frame. The Monroe emblem was plastered above her heart. In the pit of his stomach he felt the same sensation he'd experience that day—the day he met her.

Miles rubbed his forehead, looking up at the sky, its brightness causing him to squint in response.

"What do you want?" He muttered, his lips dry and chapped as he pressed them together. "Why can't you just leave me the hell alone?"

"You look awful, Miles." She reached a hand out, trying to touch his face. "You haven't been sleeping much, have you?"

Miles flinched when he felt her cold fingertips come in contact with his scruffy jaw. Her touch was unfamiliar, not the very least similar to that of the real Nora, and yet he sensed a sudden twist in his gut seeing her like that and having her so close.

"You're not her." He said again, for what must have been the millionth time since his whole ordeal had started.

She placed one hand on her hip, tilting her head, with a pleased expression on her face. "Don't be afraid to let yourself feel, Miles. You loved me, I know that." She paced closer to him, noticing how this time he wasn't really trying to push her away.

Miles didn't know if it was just his exhausted state or if this version of Nora was actually achieving to slowly crumble his defenses. "Not enough." He lamented. "I didn't love you enough. You deserved better."

Nora smiled, "We can have better, Miles. You and me, together. No more torment, no more guilt. You just have to do one thing for me."

He shook his head, snapping out of his haze. "No. It's all a lie." The words, although directed at her seemed more like a reassurance for his debilitated state of mind.

"You remember that day, don't you?" She paced around him, circling him like a shark. "I had just returned from the Florida peninsula with another successful bounty under my belt and was informing Bass of my journey when you walked in." She bit her lip flirtatiously, "God, you were handsome." A chuckle left her mouth, "You still are." She took a seat on a large boulder by the edge of the pond.

Miles didn't say anything, his mind had already been transported back in time, to the day he'd first laid eyes on Nora Clayton. She'd heard Bass talk about what a top notch bounty hunter she was—leaving all the men in the dust when it came to collecting bounties. Miles had been away for months with Jeremy, recruiting more men and acquiring more firearms along the border with Georgia when she'd joined the militia.

"We became inseparable soon after." She said, picking up a round, flat pebble next to her foot. She analyzed it carefully, continuing to speak like an automated machine. "Bass had a nickname for us," there was laughter in her words.

"Bonnie and Clyde." Miles's voice echoed hers, his eyes distant and glossy as he became consumed in the memories. "I never had a partner quite like you," he said with a tone of melancholy.

A few months after meeting, Nora had brought news of a monumental supply of artillery being transported into Baltimore from Annapolis. By her accounts, the cargo would be moved in less than a week's span.

Against Bass's reasoning, Miles insisted on raiding the city and convinced him to authorize the mission. After all, Miles was the best man for the job, he'd already proven his military skills were on par with his. Sending him off would be as if Bass himself was partaking in the seizing of the weapons.

"You didn't want to take Jeremy. You deemed him too weak, even though he was just as ruthless as everyone else in the militia. No, you chose Strausser instead. He was your second-in-command out in Baltimore." There was a pause as she watched him from afar.

Miles had decided to take refuge underneath a maple tree, the sun was starting to descend, and shade covered him almost entirely from view as he took a seat against the tree trunk. He could almost hear the screaming of men begging for their life, insisting that they were innocent, swearing they had no information of value.

He looked down at his hands, expecting to see them covered in blood but all he saw were his calloused fingers and the marked lines of his palms. Clenching them into fists, he leaned his head back, closing his eyes as the pain struck him once again.

"You're getting ahead of yourself." Nora spoke, as if reading his mind. She looked up at the cloudless sky, still clear with daylight. "There was a large, red moon out that night in Baltimore."

Miles muttered, "A blood moon."

* * *

><p>Aaron struggled up the flight of stairs, out of breathe and with a light sweat breaking on his forehead, he stopped when he reached the top. He leaned up against the broken window pane and rubbed the dirt off the glass with the palm of his hand. The view was opposite of the town square and since it was less than fascinating, they hadn't really paid attention to it before.<p>

He looked far ahead, nothing but plains and dirt trails that led out of town. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what direction they had entered Bradbury, but he was sure their footsteps were still inked on one of those dirt roads.

Fluttering his eyes a few times and adjusting his glasses, he made his way to the room where Peter had been busy devising a new strategy. So far, waiting for news from the nano zombies had been a waste of time. The only thing they knew was that Neville was leading them into full fledge world domination. But one question still remained—_who was he communicating with?_

Aaron pushed the door open, "Can we please get a place without stairs next ti—what the hell is that?" His eyes were ready to bulge out of his head.

Peter instinctively tried to hide the object in his hands before relenting and showing it to him. The pendant hung from a silver chain, twirling around as he held it up with his fingers.

"You had a pendant this whole time and you didn't think to tell us?"

Peter slumped his shoulders in shame. "I've been keeping it as memento." He shrugged a bit before handing it over to him. "I thought it useless until we got here. I've noticed it's come on occasionally since being in Bradbury."

Aaron's heart began pumping with excitement as he held it in his hand. The trinket's silver coating had dulled but its overall appearance remained unchanged. Bringing the flash drive into view he practically shoved it in Peter's face.

"Do you have any idea what this means?" His voice shrieked with enthusiasm. "We have another chance to infect the nano with the virus!"

Peter nodded rapidly, continuing a back and forth pace over the creaky hardwood floor. "There has to be a computer somewhere in town. We can continue working on the code once we get our hands on one."

Aaron laughed, his face expressing joy for the first time since they'd gotten to Bradbury. "I'll go tell the others."

* * *

><p>More than a thousand miles away, back in Texas, Charlie fidgeted atop a stool of the nearby bar. The dim light of the mason jars hanging overhead bathed her in a golden glow as she nursed the drink in front of her. She'd turned to look at the door more than once already, as if just thinking of a certain someone would make him appear out of thin air.<p>

"Waiting for someone else?" Adam asked, his lips touching his glass as the amber liquid poured into his mouth. He leaned against the bar, trying his hardest to get Charlie's undivided attention.

She smiled and shook her head. "What makes you say that?"

The bartender placed two bowls of stew in front of them and Charlie hastily took a hold of her spoon and began mixing the contents around. She took a small sip, savoring the taste of herbs and spices in her mouth before swallowing.

Adam stared at her with a devious glint in his eye. He ate a heaping spoonful of stew and then replied. "You've been checking the door since we got here. Something wrong?"

The only thing wrong with the scenario was that she would have much rather been having dinner with Bass than him. Her heart shuddered in her chest, like the admission was something she wasn't supposed to even think about. It was already pretty clear to Charlie that Bass was not interested in her in that way. Why else would he still be wasting his time with Claire Donegan when he had every opportunity to be with her? Just the thought of them together filled her with an absurd hatred towards the woman.

"Nothing wrong," she lied.

In between eating and drinking, Adam began to question her again, this time abandoning the subject of her sudden change of mood around him.

"I haven't seen your mom or your uncle around since I got to town."

Charlie raised her eyebrows. "And?"

He shrugged, pushing his now-empty bowl away from him and turning around on his barstool. A slight burp left his mouth and he apologized with a laugh. Charlie found the act amusing but only enough for her to crack a tiny smile.

"I just find it odd that they'd leave you alone with Monroe for that long, seeing as he did—as you once said—kill half your family."

She let her spoon fall, hitting the rim of the plastic bowl she'd been eating from. "It's not just me in his house, my grandpa's there too." She said irritated.

"But he likes you." Adam replied without hesitation. "Doesn't that creep you out?"

Charlie chuckled in a mocking way. "You have it all wrong." Her stomach twirled, knowing it was her who was developing deeper feelings for her uncle's best friend.

He put his hands up as if surrendering. "I'm assuming you guys will find a new place once your mom and uncle return from–" he went silent for a moment, "Where are they again?"

Charlie narrowed her eyes, suspicious about Adam's sudden interest in Miles and Rachel's whereabouts. "I never said where they went."

A smiled appeared on his face, his white teeth glowing in the dim light. He waited for the bartender to refill his glass and then took a big gulp. "That's right. Are they on some kind of secret mission or something? Come on, can't even share with a friend?"

She shook her head. "Sorry buddy, family only." Charlie hopped off the barstool and adjusted her jacket.

"So Monroe's family now, huh?" He asked.

Charlie exhaled loudly, "I'm not in the mood for this today, okay? I gotta go back now."

She began to walk away when she felt his fingers wrap around her bicep. The grip was light, nothing that made Charlie question her safety around him.

"I really like you Charlie." He said, breath heavy with the aroma of bourbon and beef stew. He licked his lips, sliding his hand over her arm and then encircling her waist.

The feeling was uncomfortable and strongly unwanted. Adam had already tried to kiss her on more than one occasion since the last time she'd seen him but Charlie had always found a way to avoid it. He'd come close only once and that was only because she'd been angry at Bass. But even then, a kiss between them had never come to fruition.

"Adam, I really have to go." With her hand she pushed his away and took a few steps back. "I'm sorry." She said, making her way towards the door.

* * *

><p>Miles could see everything play out in his mind as it had that day.<p>

_He, along with Strausser, and the other men had arrived in Baltimore late in the evening. They had the element of surprise, but he hadn't counted on the fact that Nora had been following close behind._

_Out in the battle field, he took a different persona. He was animalistic and with a thirst for blood that couldn't be quenched. He was a trained and vicious soldier, and anyone who ever heard of Miles Matheson shook in their boots, especially after that night._

_It didn't take long before they had their first batch of suspects. Strausser and Miles decided to engage in a sort of tag team when it came to their interrogations. One by one, the men were brought into a deserted storage facility near the bank of Chesapeake Bay while the rest continued their search for the weaponry._

_Already on high alert, the men who were interrogated continued to remain tightlipped about any information leading to the stockpile. It was then that Miles decided to take a different approach to their tactics._

_One man, already bloodied from the blows at the hand of Strausser, insisted that he had not been told of the location. Miles, already tired of the secrecy, took his sword in one hand, gliding it ever so lightly over the man's neck._

_"Please." He begged, eyes watery and nose runny with blood._

_"He doesn't know." Strausser said, running his hands through his hair and showing his desperation._

_Miles moved the sword, its sharp blade grazing the man's wrists as they remained tied to a chair. "On the count of three, you're going to tell me where those weapons are being kept. If not, you're leaving here with one less hand." Miles's voice did not falter._

_"No...no..."_

_"One, two–"_

_Strausser watched from the corner of the room. A part of him was unable to believe Miles was capable of such thing. He was soon proven wrong._

_"Three." In one swift motion the blade came down with force. Blood spurted out, tainting Miles's clothes as the man screamed in excruciating pain. His movements were so violent that the chair he was sitting on tipped over. He rolled around like a wounded animal but Miles didn't do a thing to help._

Nora was close to him now, her hands cupping his face as his eyes became welded with tears and one slipped silently down his cheek. "It's painful, I know." She said, "But I can help you forget all of that. Let me help you, Miles."

He shook his head. "What good would forgetting do? That wouldn't save my soul." Miles wiped the tears from his eyes and then spoke, his voice groggy and lifeless. "It wasn't enough to cut hands, fingers, limbs..." His voice cracked. "We paraded them around town like freaks, so they would serve as an example to those who were being disloyal to the Republic."

Nora looked at him as if he was a peculiar creature.

"Once the weaponry was found, the men responsible were hung as punishment for their crimes." He faked a laugh, "Illegal possession and transport of firearms. That's what we called it and what we used as an excuse to execute them. Bass drafted the Baltimore Act after that, as if that was exoneration enough for my acts."

She muttered, "There was a lot of blood spilled that night. Opposition rose, men and women tried to fight back against you and your men. They were dead the moment they stepped out of their homes. The next morning, all that was left in the streets were slaughtered remains and the charred homes of those you considered enemies of the Republic. And from then on, you became known as the Butcher of Baltimore."

Miles leaned his forehead over his knees.

His voice was hoarse, "You weren't supposed to be there. You weren't supposed to see me like that."

Nora's fingers combed through his hair. "But I was there, Miles. And I didn't judge you. I never held it against you. We pulled through it together, didn't we? I was there to help you when no one else could."

She had been there for him during one of the darkest moments of his life. Nora had seen him reach a new low but not once had her love for him wavered.

"I became a monster after that. Everything I did, I did without remorse." He said, "But you were always there, pulling me back from the pits of hell just when I thought I was ready to fall."

A smile graced her face, followed by a murmur of a scoff. "But then you left me."

Miles looked up at her, a shock hitting his body at the icy delivery of the line.

"After years of being partners and lovers, you decided it was best to bring Rachel Matheson into the picture. Ordering her to help the militia was the beginning of our downfall, Miles." There was an eerie silence between them before she spoke again. "What are you going to do this time? Are you going to choose her over me again?"

Miles shut his eyes, too much was going through his mind to assimilate anything with certainty. "I–" he began to speak, opening his eyes only to realize he was now alone.

Nora had vanished.

* * *

><p>Charlie shut the door behind her slowly, leaning against it and exhaling in relief. Lately, being around Adam was more draining than it was fun. The whole being interested in him charade was getting tiresome and she didn't know why she even had to keep that up when no one was around to see them.<p>

She heard the screen door in the back of the house slam against the door frame. Her heart beat at an irrational pace, even though it was more than possible that it was just Gene coming back from his usual evening stroll. There was a tune being whistled. It got louder as she walked towards it.

Charlie knew by the tune who it really was but her stomach still clenched when she saw him standing in the middle of the kitchen with his rolled up shirt thrown over one shoulder and his belt folded in his hand. He was reading a paper, probably something Blanchard had given him to sign a while back.

Bass perched up his eyebrows, surprised to see her there. "Charlie." He said, setting the paper on the kitchen counter.

Her eyes strayed from his face, focusing instead on the wet mesh of curls atop his head and then on the lines that defined his abdomen. His jeans were unbuttoned, hanging from his hips, and his skin was still glistening with moisture.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here. I thought you were out for the night." There was a roughness to his voice as he spoke.

She cleared her throat. "I changed my mind." With the initial shock gone, she looked around. "Where's my grandpa?"

Bass smiled, "He's out with Frank. Those two have been inseparable lately. They're like a pair of high school sweethearts."

This meant they were all alone. It wasn't the first time this had happened and yet it felt different this time around, and it wasn't just because Bass was standing half naked in front of her. Or was it? She stared at him again, making it painfully obvious to the point where Bass felt like he had to apologize for his state of undressed.

"Sorry, I decided to go for a swim." He pulled the shirt off his shoulder but instead of putting it on, he continued to hold it in his hand along with the belt. "Dirty." He said, referring to the shirt. "I'm going upstairs to change." He attempted to walk past her.

"Wait!" Charlie responded with urgency. "I um... I think maybe you're right about Adam."

The joy that appeared on his face came off a little pompous. Charlie could tell he was dying to say I told you so but he refrained. It was gracious of him, considering he rarely took pity when it came to poking fun at her.

"Yeah?" He tilted his head. "And what exactly am I right about? Because trust me, there is a long list of adjectives I have to describe the guy. I would've already sent him packing if it weren't for you and your insistence to keep him around." That last part came out more as a reproach than a simple statement.

Charlie rolled her eyes slightly, "I was with him earlier."

He raised his eyebrows, the lines of his forehead becoming visible. "Please, spare me the details."

"At the bar... He seemed a little too concerned about the whereabouts of Miles and my mom." Charlie said. "I think you're right about not trusting him."

"You didn't tell him anything, did you?"

She twisted her mouth, "Of course not! I'm not an idiot."

He gave her a teasing look. Charlie laughed, lightly punching him in the arm in return. A heat invaded her belly at the feel of his wet skin on her knuckles.

"All joking aside, I'm glad you're starting to open your eyes in regards to that prick." He rubbed her arm with his hand as a gesture of support. "I don't like him being around you, Charlie."

She felt herself shiver. There was a clear, sharp contrast between the way his touch made her feel compared to how she'd felt around Adam earlier. Her body responded much more favorably to Bass's close proximity. His touch wasn't undesirable.

"I know Miles would feel the same way."

With that affirmation, Charlie felt her body relax. Bass had a way of quickly extinguishing her flame in the harshest of ways.

"Miles." Charlie said quietly. "You're looking out for me like Miles would." She sounded almost annoyed.

Bass noticed her reaction. "I'm looking out for you as someone who cares about you, Charlotte."

She huffed. "I'm Charlotte now." Somehow, the mention of her full name made her feel like he was trying to distance himself from her, like he was seeing her as a child instead of a grown woman.

The sudden shift in her mood was troubling. "Did I say something to offend you?"

Charlie shook her head but the look in her eyes told a different story. He could've just walked away, gone upstairs and changed like he had planned, and given her time to get over whatever was bothering her. But something kept him in place, the need to know why Charlie suddenly seemed upset intrigued him.

"Something's bothering you." He gently touched her chin, turning her face towards him.

Charlie could feel her heart beating incessantly and she inhaled sharply. She wanted to tell him. Her eyes trailed over his torso again before becoming fixated on his pools of blue. "It's you," she muttered.

Bass pulled his hand away, "What do you mean? I thought we were past every–"

She interrupted him. "It's not that."

The bewildered look on his face was proof of how oblivious he really was to the changes happening between them. "Charlie, I'm not sure what you mean."

Her feet moved a few steps in his direction, slowly and quietly like a cat. Bass's eyes widened in surprise and he told himself he was most likely misunderstanding what was really happening. He didn't want to believe that Charlie was in fact trying to close the distance between them. The look in her eyes was that of determination and hunger, he'd seen it many times before, but never expected to see it on her. Not in regards to him.

Bass gulped, unable to utter a single word. He looked at Charlie, really seeing her and appreciating her for who she was. The corner of her mouth twitched, her feet shuffling even closer until they were toe to toe with his boots. It was as if her movements were playing in slow motion.

Her head tilted upwards, approaching him leisurely and dreading that he'd put a stop to it before she even got a chance to get a taste of his lips. Bass's breathing quickened and his stomach twisted with anticipation. One second he was looking her in the eyes and the next her mouth was pressed against his own.

His whole body tensed up against hers, taken aback by her unexpected and daring move. Charlie felt him stiffen without returning the kiss, she was sure that her advances had been an epic failure. Feeling embarrassed by her actions, she began to pull away, her spirits dwindling in defeat.

She opened her eyes as soon as their lips separated.

But the departure was brief. Charlie heard Bass's belt and shirt hit the floor next to them, his hands cupping her face fervently as he pressed his heated mouth against hers. It was as if a lever had been flipped inside him. His lips enveloped hers in a ravenous manner, leaving her breathless as their bodies collided.

Charlie's hands wrapped around the nape of his neck, his wet hair brushing against her fingers as she allowed his tongue to delve into her mouth. She kissed him back with equal intensity, teasingly sucking on his lips. His tongue explored the inside of her mouth once more before he pulled away.

Bass looked at her stunned and Charlie bit down on her lip, trying to hold back her state of bliss.

"Shit." He muttered, running a hand through his wet hair.

She wasn't surprised by his reaction, on the contrary, it had been expected.

Charlie opened her mouth but didn't say a thing. There were no apologies needed. She didn't regret what she had done.

"Charlie, you're Miles's niece. You know he's like a brother to me."

She could hear the words but they didn't seem to have much weight behind them.

"Things are already too fucked up to complicate them even further." He shut his eyes for a moment. "Shit," he repeated.

And yet, no apology came from his lips either. He didn't try to explain why he'd kiss her back, didn't try to excuse his behavior as a moment of weakness or tell her that it shouldn't have happened. His only worry seemed to be Miles and what he would think.

Charlie was okay with that.

Bass excused himself to his room and she watched him climb up the stairs. A smile formed on her face as she studied his backside, pleased to know that she wasn't alone in her attraction.

* * *

><p>With the last hints of sunlight lingering in the horizon, the group decided to scavenge the town of Bradbury for a computer. The little hope they had burned in each of them like a dimming candle, knowing that if this plan didn't pan out, it would be nearly impossible to get another shot at disabling the nano.<p>

The first mom and pop store they hit had—as expected—already been overturned. Pieces of CDs, empty DVD cases and dusty shelves littered the floor of the establishment. The place where the cash register used to be was now taken up by empty boxes and a stack of old porn magazines.

All the ceiling lights had been shattered, so even with the electricity that was supplying the town, it was still hard to see anything inside. Unfortunately for them, this was the case with many of the places around town.

"I attended a party at Hugh Hefner's place once." Aaron muttered, looking at the dusty magazine as he held it in his hands. "I bet you that guy had a bomb shelter somewhere in that mansion. I wonder if he's still alive..."

Priscilla looked at him with skepticism and shook her head. "Feeling sentimental much?" She teased.

He snorted, tossing the magazine back on the counter. "I'm just saying, there's no way the grotto was just a place to hook up."

Rachel pressed her lips into faint smile. Her eyes squinting as she made her way to the back of the store. Shredded posters still lined the walls, one of them featured a couple reading a book to their child. She felt the air leave her lungs, a dull pain crushing her sternum as she thought of her own children. She was aware that she'd never been the best mother. Not even close.

Her mind wandered off to Charlie for a moment, hoping that she was okay.

Peter and Grace kept searching through the wreckage but trying to move things in a quiet fashion wasn't an easy task. The best they'd found were pieces of a broken phone, too destroyed to be salvageable.

"Hey." Rachel spoke up, turning back to see their silhouettes become still against the light seeping from outside. "This town has to have a school or a library?"

She saw movement in the front. It was Peter. "There's a playground north of the ice cream shop and a small building right next door to it. It could be a school but it's hard to tell. Everything is so run down."

Grace simply nodded, already making her way out the door before the rest agreed to follow.

The trek across town took longer than it would have if they would've had free reign of the streets. There was constant pausing and ducking to make sure everything was clear before they could proceed. Most of the nano zombies stayed in the area in front of the ice cream parlor, no one really bothered to travel anywhere else but it was still in their nature to be cautious. Plus, it was always possible Neville or one of his henchmen could be wandering around town.

The doors to the school were unlocked and swung wide open with the slightest of pushes. It was murky, puddles of dirty water hitting their feet every time they walked. The smell was musty, that of old rotten wood, and the constant dripping coming from the ceiling was maddening.

A grand total of five classrooms made up the so-called school.

"This town is a joke!" Aaron said, pulling his hair back like he was going to rip it straight out of his scalp.

The classrooms contained nothing but empty desks and the office wasn't any bigger than a walk-in closet. Any electronics that might have been there were now gone.

"Think." Priscilla said. "There has to be another place."

They all went silent, staring at each other as if they were all thinking the same thing. Aaron shook his head but Peter looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Them." Rachel said softly. "They have a cellphone, they're communicating with someone from the outside. The chances of them having a computer or laptop are very likely."

Aaron pursed his lips, feeling Priscilla's hand wrap around his fingers.

"She's right." Grace agreed. "We have no other choice. We have to find their hideout."

"We're gonna die." Aaron mumbled. "We're gonna die. That's what's going to happen if we try..." He started rambling.

* * *

><p>Back at the safe house, Aaron remained by the second story window, staring blankly at the outside as he tried to organize his thoughts. His mind was muddled with plans that seemed to interweave, but the last image was always the same. Him lying dead on the floor, his friends right next to him.<p>

As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness outside, his pupils became aware of movement in the distance. He adjusted his glasses, pressing his face closer to the glass to get a better view. It was a lone rider on horseback.

Miles.

Aaron and Rachel scurried outside, her heart pumping at the thought of being reunited with him once again. The hoofs of the horse were feeble, as if he too was trying to remain as quiet as possible. The zombies in front of the ice cream shop seemed to be in their immobile state, with Neville and Davis absent and out of sight.

"Miles!" Rachel whispered, catching sight of him as he rounded the corner of the building. He looked down, seeing them crouched behind a dumpster.

He smiled absently, and Rachel could immediately tell there was something wrong. He seemed distant.

She ran into his arms the moment his feet touched the ground, embracing him tightly. Miles acted relieved but his expression was still that of anguish. Not caring that Aaron was there, Rachel placed a kiss on Miles's lips.

"Where's Charlie and my dad?"

"They're back home. They're okay." He assured her.

Her hand touched his face. "But you're not." She eyed him carefully, "What's wrong Miles, you look pained."

Aaron remained silent, watching the exchange.

"I just came to help you kick some zombie ass." He remarked, trying to be funny but attaining a sad reception. "We're gonna get rid of them like it's Y2K." He grinned.

Rachel remained unconvinced. "I'm glad you're here." She said, hugging him once again.

She felt a fear creep into her being, aware that the man who held her in his arms wasn't the same one she'd left behind. Something was terribly wrong with Miles and she felt it deep in her bones.

He whispered, "I'm glad I'm here too."

Miles's eyes scanned the ground, noticing the pair of black, leather boots. His heart thumped in his chest, a sickening feeling invading his stomach. He looked up slowly, finally focusing on Nora's sorrowful eyes as she watched them in silence.

* * *

><p>AN Please leave a comment if you have a moment. Chapter 8 will be posted in a week or so by DriverPicksTheMusic.


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